


And Winter Came...

by Wenderful52



Series: Two Thrones [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard has a dog!, Everybody writes letters, Festival of Midsummer, Galion is my hero, Hilda rocks, Hurt/Comfort, Letters from Dale, Letters from the Woodland Realm, M/M, PTSD, Past Domestic Violence, Rape Recovery, The children miss their Da, They don't make Elves like they used to, Two Kings, Two Thrones, What Makes a King, Winter in Dale, sexual abuse recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 305,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wenderful52/pseuds/Wenderful52
Summary: It's the first winter after the Battle of Five Armies, and Bard and the rest of the men are rebuilding Dale.  Life in the Great Hall is busy, but lonely, so Percy does his best to keep everyone's spirits up, with games, tournaments, and pranks - usually at Bard's expense.Thranduil is looking after the women and children of the Woodland Realm, and Hilda is doing her best to place the Orphans of Dale into proper, loving homes.The Winter is made longer when things don’t go as smoothly as the Kings had hoped.   During their long separation, our Royal family try to cope with severe illness, and life-threatening injuries.Will they all survive?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a second part of my "Two Thrones" series, which picks up the same night where "What Makes a King" left off. 
> 
> Letters are sent back and forth as the wagons with supplies from the Woodland Realm come about once a week, plus we get to check in and see how everyone is faring over their long separation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: Please enjoy the new illustrations for this Chapter, done by the wonderfully talented [Creepy Scientist](http://creepyscientist.tumblr.com/)! Be sure and check out her work on Tumblr!

 

The proper definition of a man, is an animal that writes letters.”

**― Lewis Carroll**

 

**The Woodland Realm, 2nd of January, 2942, T.A.**

That first night after Bard left, Thranduil was asleep in his chambers, when he felt something shake his arm. He opened his eyes and blinked several times, only to see in the glow of the fireplace, a sad little girl clutching her doll and stuffed elk, sniffling.

The Elvenking had been prepared for this.

“Tilda? What is it, _Tithen Pen?_ Are you hurt, or ill?

She screwed her face up and started crying in earnest, so he quickly gathered her into his long arms. “Tell me what is the matter, and I shall try to make it better.”

Tilda hid her face in Thranduil’s neck. “I want m-my Da!”

He rubbed her back. “I know, _Hênig,_ I miss him as well. Did you have a bad dream?”

“No. I w-woke up, and then I remembered Da w-went away!” She began to cry again, as her arms tightened around his neck. “I want him to come back!”

“I am sorry you feel so sad. We must try to be brave, and rely on each other, while your Da works to get Dale ready for your people.  When you return, it will look much better, will it not?" He pulled her away from his shoulder, and looked into her face, and stroked her hair. “But I think that is small comfort for a little girl, who has never been away from her Da.” He hugged her again, and continued to rub her back soothingly, until she had begun to settle down.

“Did you know, when Legolas was small, and he had bad dreams, he would often sleep with my wife and me? Would it make you feel better if you stayed with me, tonight?”

Tilda, still hiccupping, said, “Yes, p-please. I don’t want to be b-by myself, and S-Sigrid is asleep.”

 

 

“Do you need to visit the necessary, before you go back to sleep?”

“Could you come with me? Things look scary here in the dark.” She started to cry again.

“Shh… Shh…” he rubbed her back. “I understand, _Tithen Pen._ This is a new place, and shadows can seem frightening at night until you get used to them,” he told her as he stood up with her in his arms. “Here, let me put Charlotte and Daisy down, and they can wait for us, all right?” She nodded, as she handed him the toys, and then he carried her to the necessary. “We could leave a lamp burning in your common room at night. Would that help?”

She nodded, still hiccupping.

He lit the lamp for her in their necessary room, then waited outside for her take to care of business, before he carried her back to his chambers and settled her in Bard’s side of the bed. He tucked an extra quilt around her, then went around to the other side and crawled in, sitting against the headboard. Still sniffling, she leaned against him, clutching her toys tight.

“I just really miss my Da.” She whispered, sadly.

Thranduil stroked her head. “I understand how you feel, Tilda, I miss him, too. Perhaps we can help each other, when we are sad. I can make you feel better when you miss him too much, and when I feel lonely, you can help me. What do you think about that?”

“How can I help _you?”_ Tilda asked.

“Well, if I tell you when I am sad, you can give me a hug, or draw me a picture, or you could tell me a story.”

“Me, tell _you_ a story?”

“Certainly. You have known your Da longer than I have, and you could tell me stories about when you lived in Laketown, with your brother and your sister. I would like that very much.”

“Maybe you could tell me stories of when Legolas and Tauriel were little.” Tilda offered. “Or when you were little with your Mam and Da.”

“I could do that. Shall I tell you of the time, when I was small, and my friend Feren and I tried to ride my father's warhorse?”

“You mean, Feren who works with you and Da? You knew him when you were little?”

“Oh, yes! Feren is my oldest friend. That is why he helped your Da and me get married.  Feren’s father worked for my father, King Oropher.”

Tilda thought about this. “So, he must be old, too. But not as old as Auntie Hil.”

The Elvenking laughed. “I am afraid he is much, much older than your Auntie Hil. And when we were young, we got into quite a bit of trouble together.”

“You did? Like ride your Da’s horse when you weren’t supposed to?”

“Indeed. We had our own, smaller horses, but we liked to pretend we were fierce warriors, and we often wondered what it was like to ride those enormous horses into battle. Those beasts are especially strong, and trained to protect our fathers in combat.”

“Like your Elk did? I heard he was mean.”

 _“Bara-Maethor_ was only mean to those who wanted to hurt me. My father’s horse was the same way. He could be scary to those who want to harm us, but he was kind and gentle to me, when I would feed him an apple or a carrot."

“Was he smart?”

Thranduil nodded. “He was very smart. _Galvorn_ did not tolerate foolish young Elflings who went sneaking around behind their parents’ back. That day, we rode him because I did not want to practice my sword work, and even worse," Thranduil made a face. "I told a lie."

"You lied?  Da and Auntie Hil call it 'fibbing,' and that's bad."

"'Fibbing' is a good word, is it not?  And, yes, it is a very bad thing to do.  It got me into a lot of trouble that day.  Shall I tell you that story?”

The little girl nodded.

“Close your eyes and settle back, and I will begin.”

She did, so, he did.

~o0o~ 

 

 

> It was late summer, and Thranduil and Feren had just finished in the practice yard with their wooden swords. The Prince was furious. Feren had beaten him! Again!
> 
> He kicked open the gate, and stomped out of the practice arena.
> 
> “Thranduil! What is the matter with you?”
> 
> He whipped around toward the other Elfling. “YOU are NOT supposed to beat me!”
> 
> “I will BEAT you at anything I want!" said an outraged Feren, who stuck his finger in Thranduil's face. "YOU cannot tell ME what to do!”
> 
> This incensed the young Prince. “I can so! My father is the King and you will do everything I say!”
> 
> “I will not, and you cannot make me! Just because you are lousy with swords, does not mean you can take it out on me!”
> 
> “I am NOT bad with swords!”
> 
> Feren laughed. “Then why I did I win? Three times! Princes are not supposed to be sore losers. If you would practice like you are supposed to, I would not beat you! Three times! But you do not, so I did! Three times! Ha Ha!”
> 
> Thranduil couldn't stand the idea of Feren making fun of him, so he had to think of something.  “Well... I did not practice because…"  A thought popped into his head, and was out of his mouth before he knew it.  "I was busy riding _Galvorn!”_
> 
> “You were not! You are lying!”
> 
> The blonde Elfling drew himself up to his fullest height, stuck his nose in the air, and said, “I was, too!  It is not _my_ fault that your _Ada_ will not let you ride his horse.  But I can ride Galvorn anytime I want!”
> 
> Feren narrowed his eyes, and crossed his arms. “Prove it.”
> 
> Thranduil was not expecting that. “What?”
> 
> “You heard me. If you can ride the King’s warhorse, I want to see you do it." 
> 
> “I... cannot ride him right now, because he is out grazing.”
> 
> “So, go get him. He likes you when you bring him apples. Let me see you ride him. Otherwise,” Feren grinned evilly, “I will ask your father about it!"
> 
> Gulping, Thranduil said, “Fine! I will! But only if you ride him, too! Or are you scared?”
> 
> The prince was hoping Feren _would_ be frightened, so they could just forget the whole thing.
> 
> No such luck.
> 
> Feren stomped towards the barns. “I am _not_ afraid, you are! Let us go.”
> 
> They made their way into the barn and, as it turned out, _Galvorn_ was not in the paddock as Thranduil had claimed; he was in his stall. They managed to get a saddle and bridle on him, while the great horse waited patiently, biding his time.  The horse’s calmness and cooperation eased the Elflings' trepidation.   Feeling emboldened by their success so far, they began to laugh together and look forward to their big adventure.  They were going to be true warriors!
> 
> They led him into the paddock and stopped by the fence, so they could use it to leap into the saddle, with Thranduil in front. Thranduil took the reins, and they were off!  They rode around the paddock a few times, feeling bolder with each step. Then they took him to the center, so they could pretend to wave their swords and fight off the terrible Orcs.  
> 
> But when Thranduil rode him  over to the gate and unlatched it,  _Galvorn_ had had enough of this foolishness, and saw his chance.  He reared up, tossing the boys onto the ground. They landed hard on their behinds, bewildered, then got up and started to brush themselves off.  But, the horse wasn’t finished teaching them a lesson. He neighed, then turned and backed up toward them.
> 
> Thranduil and Feren ran for their lives, but _Galvorn_ managed to get them each in their hind ends several times, and the last kick sent Thranduil flying and screaming through the air, only to land, face-first, in to a pile of manure.

~o0o~

At this last part of the story, Tilda began to giggle, and so did Thranduil.

“What happened then?” she asked.

“The horse went through the open gate, and ran to the barracks where our _Adars_ were.”

“I’ll be they were mad.”

“Well, they were _not_ pleased." he smiled. "We had to stand at attention while our _Adars_  shouted at us.  To make matters worse, I had to take a bath, which I did not like to do.”

Tilda giggled again. “Your bottom must have really hurt."

“It certainly did!" Thranduil laughed.  My _Naneth_ took us to the Healer, to make sure we were all right.  I was bruised all over my bottom and so was Feren, but our _Adars_ would not allow the Healers to help. They said the pain would teach us a lesson.”

“Did it?”

“Yes.  We could not sit down for days.  In addition, Feren and I had to polish every single piece of tack in that barn, and clean out the all horse stalls for a month.”

"Did you ever do it again?"

"Would _you_ have?" He smiled down at her.

Tilda shook her head, then yawned.

He kissed her on her hair and asked, “Do you feel better now, _Tithen Pen?”_

"Mmm-hmm." She yawned again, and snuggled down.  “Good night, Thrandool.”

He sat for a long time and watched her sleep, smiling, before he finally drifted off himself.

 

The next morning after breakfast, Thranduil came into the common area of the children’s apartment, and found the children sitting on the couches, rather morosely. School was not scheduled to start until tomorrow, so the day stretched before them, empty and lonely.

Tilda was holding Charlotte, and was still a bit weepy from last night, Bain was brooding and had a sour look on his face, and Sigrid looked listless.  No one was happy, but Thranduil had a plan to remedy that.

“Children, do you remember when I promised a gift, if you behaved well during the ride here?”

They looked at him and nodded.

“Can you tell me whether you did, or not?”

Tilda thought about it. “I tried to be good. I listened to stories, and, when we had to move into a different wagon so Sigrid could help with Rhian, I didn’t make a fuss. I slept some, too. I don’t know what Bain did; he had to go into another wagon, and I know Sigrid was good, because she was helping.”

Thranduil agreed that Tilda had done her best. “What about you, Bain?”

“I was with my friend, Rhys. We listened to stories too, but then we played cards, before we fell asleep. There was another boy that started to make noise and jump around, but we kept telling him to stop it.”

Thranduil crossed his arms. “I believe you have done well, and have earned your gift. Would you like me to give it to you, now?”

“Yes!” was heard from Tilda. Sigrid nodded, but Bain looked skeptical and grumpy.

“Where is it?” Tilda asked, she got up to look around him and behind him. “Is it in your chambers?”

“No, it is not. I must take you to it.”

“Now?” Bain asked, frowning.

“Yes, now. Please get your coats, and dress warmly children, we need to go outside,”

They bundled up in their wraps, and Thranduil made sure Tilda’s hat and mittens were on snugly, before he ducked into his chambers for his fur-lined cloak.  One he fastened it, Tilda looked up at him with her arms raised, so he picked her up and made their way out the side door toward the barns, with Tilda on his hip.

“We already saw the barns!” Bain complained.

Sigrid jabbed her brother. “Don’t be rude!”

“Sorry.” Bain mumbled.

Thranduil saw from his side glance that the boy looked very unhappy, and was doing his best to keep his composure as he surreptitiously wiped his eye.

Thranduil stopped, put Tilda down and put his hand on Bain’s shoulder. “I do understand, Bain,” he said gently.  “We all feel unhappy because we miss your Da, and sometimes it can make us feel disagreeable, yes? But that does not give anyone an excuse to take it out others.  Is this what your Da tells you?”

The boy looked at him apologetically, and nodded. “Da said to be brave, but...  lt’s hard, sometimes.”

“I confess I am having the same dilemma.”  He gave Bain an encouraging smile.  “Let us see what we shall find, yes?  You may feel a bit better."

They entered the large building and were greeted by an Elf who was currently trimming the hooves of a lovely brown mare. They watched, as the Elf spoke softly to her, while he performed his task. The children asked if the horse could understand him, and Thranduil explained how Elves and animals communicated, in a unique way. “There are words in our ancient language of Quenya, that we use, and if you like, I will teach them to you. Is that something you would wish?”

“Is this what you wanted to show us?” Sigrid asked.

“No, but I am glad you find it interesting.” They watched and waited while the Elven farrier carefully trimmed the horse’s feet, then stroked the mare’s neck and spoke to her, as if he was thanking her for her patience. The Mare turned her head to him and whinnied in response, as the Elf smiled and took an apple for her out of his pocket and rewarded her with it, before he untied her and led her back to her stall.

When the Elf approached the group, he saluted. _“Suilad, Aran nîn,”_ the Elf said to Thranduil, who returned the greeting. Then he turned to the children.

“Sigrid, Bain and Tilda, I would like to introduce you to Falarion, one of our Farriers here in the Woodland Realm.”

“What’s a Farrier?” Tilda asked.

“A Farrier, _H_ _ênig,_ is a person who cares for the feet of horses. It is an important job, for we depend upon our horses, a great deal. It is essential that the feet of these animals be kept healthy and trimmed, otherwise they can suffer from injury or disease, and often may not survive. Falarion, here, is in charge of all the horses in the barns of my Palace, and is kept very busy. He also looks after the hooves of my Elk, should they need care.” Thranduil smiled. “He will also be your riding instructor this winter.”  

The Elvenking gestured, “Falarion, may I introduce Princess Sigrid, Prince Bain, and Princess Tilda, the children of Bard, King of Dale, who will be spending the winter with us, along with the rest of our Palace guests.” Each child curtsied or bowed politely in return. Thranduil rewarded them with an approving smile and nod; he was pleased with their good manners; even Bain made a good effort.

The Elven Farrier bowed to the children, saluted, said, _“Ni veren an dhe ngovaned.”_

Bain asked, “Are we going to ride horses today?” looking rather hopeful.

Thranduil shook his head, “Not today, Bain, although Falarion will be giving you  riding lessons in the indoor arena, this winter. You have not had much experience with horses during your time in Laketown, but you all must learn the skill of not only riding well, but to care for your horse and tack.”

“What’s a ‘Tack?’” Tilda asked.

“’Tack’ is your bridle, saddle and all other parts needed to ride your horse.” Thranduil answered her, “Just as it is important to care for your own armor and weapons, you must learn to care for the equipment used to ride. In both cases, neglect of these things can be dangerous. But that is not the reason I brought you here today.”

“What are we supposed to see?”

Thranduil explained. “As you know, many of the Elves from the Woodland Realm lost their lives in the Battle of the Five Armies. Some of them had pets that were left behind. These animals are very sad, and we need to find them new homes. I was hoping you children could help.”

He turned and led them down the long corridor of box stalls to the next-to-last one on the right, and slid the door open. There, sitting in the straw, was a beautiful black-and-white sheep dog.

“Look! It’s so pretty!” Tilda said.

Bain stepped forward, as the dog’s tail thumped on the ground. “Is it a boy or a girl? What kind of dog is it?”

“She is a _Tirhûtaw,_ children, and a female. Falarion tells me her name is Esta. She belonged to one of my Archers, and used to help her owner’s family manage their sheep. She has been pining, and does not eat well, and Falarion has suggested that perhaps you children understood her sadness, as you also miss your Da.  Do you think you could help her?”

All three children nodded eagerly. As instructed by the Elvenking, they approached her slowly and offered to let her smell the back of their hands, for a few moments, until the dog felt comfortable. Soon, the three of them were sitting cross-legged in the straw, while Esta greeted each of them with a quick lick to their cheeks, then offered her paw to Bain.

He laughed and shook it. “I like her! Will she have to stay in the barn, though?”

Tilda looked worried, “No wonder she was so sad! She’s all by herself here!”

The Elvenking smiled. “You need not worry, _Tithen Pen._ Esta has been staying with Falarion in his home, until we could find her a place. He only brought her to his work today, so you could meet her.”

“Oh, good.” The little girl looked relieved. Then she asked, “Where are the other dogs that lost their masters?”

“They are staying with other members of my Army. Many have decided to keep them, but there are some that still need good homes.”

Sigrid looked confused. “Ada, you said Esta belonged to one of your soldiers, and helped with the sheep? Was your Archer a farmer, too?”

“Yes, and no, _Iellig._ The soldier was one of my excellent Archers, and her husband raised sheep. Unfortunately, when his wife died, he missed her too much, and sailed to Valinor to be with his family that had gone before him. Falarion promised him he would look after Esta and find her a family.”

“That’s sad.” Bain said.

“It is, yes, but when we find ways to help those who are sad, it makes us feel better, does it not? Would you like to help Esta?"

His question was answered with an enthusiastic yes. “I am glad. Shall we take her back to the Palace, to her new home?” The children got up, to leave, and Thranduil looked at the dog and said, _“Tulë, Esta.”_ The dog obediently got up, and followed them at Thranduil’s left side.

“What did you say, _Ada?”_ Sigrid asked.

“We train all our animals with Quenyan words, as you saw with our horses. _‘Tulë’_ means to ‘Come,’ _‘Harë…’”_

Esta immediately stopped and sat down.

Tilda giggled. “Means ‘sit,’ right?”

Thranduil smiled, “As you can obviously see. I shall teach you all Quenyan commands today, but only after we get to the Palace, yes? Otherwise, it may take a long time to get there.”

The little girl took the Elvenking’s hand, and said, “I wish Da had something to keep him company. He must miss us a lot.”

Thranduil smiled down at her, but said nothing.

Sigrid noticed his sly grin. “What?” she asked.

“I believe I shall let your father and Tauriel tell you.  In the meantime, you will want to make sure your letters to everyone in Dale will be ready this week.  The supply wagons will be leaving in five days."

They all agreed, and happily made their way to the Royal Wing, with Esta following obediently behind.

 

 

 

***************

 

**Dale, 4th of January, 2942, T.A.**

Bard tried to sleep, but he couldn’t quiet his mind, as was so often his problem. He also was away from his husband, which made matters worse.

Seven years. For _seven years_ he had a bed to himself and learned how to sleep alone. Now, after just a few weeks of sharing Thranduil’s bed, he could hardly stand the nights without him!

 _Shit…_ He punched his pillow, and rolled over again, looking over at the huge dog, next to him. Thangon was sprawled on his back, legs splayed. His head was stretched back, and his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth. The dog was ridiculous.

He was also snoring. Bard shook his head. He still couldn’t decide whether or not Thranduil was playing a prank on him, but either way, winter with his new roommate would be interesting.

The Bowman got out of bed, and reached for his thick robe and slippers, to ward off the chill in the air. He went over and put some wood on the fire, then looked back at the bed. The dog hadn’t moved, but was yipping in his sleep, dreaming, and his paws moved slightly as if he was running.

Bard rolled his eyes, muttering, then opened the door and went out into the corridor, headed to the kitchens to get something to snack on.

He was passing Tauriel’s room, when he saw her door slightly open, and her lamp lit. He knocked a few times. “Tauriel?”

“Come in, Bard.”

“What are you doing up? Can’t you sleep, either?”

Tauriel was sitting in her chair by the fireplace, in a cream-colored robe.  Her grey tabby cat was sitting on the arm of the chair, purring.

“Did I wake you?” Tauriel asked, concerned.

Bard laughed, and walked over to pet Farien, her cat. “How could you possibly wake me, if you don’t make a sound? No, you didn’t. I have this trouble a lot, and that great bloody beast in my room is busy sawing down trees!”

The Elf smiled. “I like him. He’ll be good company for us this winter. But, I confess, it is hard not to miss the children. They kept me occupied after Kili died.”

“And, now you don’t have anything to distract you.” Bard took the other chair and looked at her, as she nodded. “I’m sorry, Tauriel.”

“I do miss him. We never even said words of love to each other. There was no time. But I loved him.”

“And he loved you.”

“May I ask you something, Bard?”

“Sure. Anything.” Bard assured her.

“When did you get over losing your wife?”

Bard huffed a little. “I’ll let you know.”

At her confused look, he explained. “Tauriel, I still love her. My love for Thranduil does not overshadow it, or make it disappear. I’d never want it to. My time with her is over, but I've got memories that I'll always cherish. I still miss her terribly sometimes, and that won’t change, but now, when I think of her, I smile. Most of it just took some time, and yes, Thranduil helped some. That’s the great thing about love, isn’t it? There’s always a way to make room for more.”

“Do you ever speak of your memories to Thranduil?” She was curious.

“Yes, I do. Not every spouse is comfortable with that, so I’m lucky. And he talks about Mírelen with me. She is part of him, and of Legolas, so I want to know about her. He feels the same about my Mattie.”

“I wish Elves were like Men. I find myself a little jealous of _Ada_. I loved Kili, and what we had was so brief, and amounted to so little, but I will always treasure it…”

“But you want more, someday.” Bard sympathized.

“I do not know, but if I did, is that wrong?” Tauriel asked.

“No, love, it isn’t.  But I wouldn’t worry about that now. Take some to think about him. Spend time with the Dwarves, like we suggested.  Listen to them speak of him; get to know him. Face your grief, Tauriel; don’t run away from it. Your Ada suffered terribly from doing that, and I don’t want to see you make the same mistake. Thranduil learned the hard way, that you can’t avoid it, and if you try, you’ll never get past it.” He tilted his head and smiled. “You know you can come and talk to me whenever you need. I know what you’re going through, and if I can help, I’d be happy to.”

Tauriel nodded, then said, “I am happy you and _Ada_ are together.”

“Me, too. Everything seemed to work together somehow, and here we all are. We're all connected now, for reasons only the Valar seems to know, but I’m happy you’re here.”

The grey cat climbed into Tauriel’s lap, and curled up to go to sleep. “I only wish Legolas could be here to join us, but I do not know if it will ever happen,” she added sadly.

“I know you miss him, but his leaving was not your fault.”

“I hurt him. I did not want to, but...” Tauriel sighed.

“I know you didn’t mean to.  So does Thranduil. Eventually, this will blow over, and resolve itself, in some way. Your _Ada_ told you, his leaving wasn’t all about you.”

“He did, but I still feel terrible. I know _Ada_ wants to make things right with Legolas, and so do I.”

“But you have nothing to ‘make right,’ Tauriel. You did nothing to Legolas, except be his best friend. And be your wonderful self.” He grinned at her, before he became serious, again. “I suggest you leave well enough alone with Legolas, at least for now.  He’ll come around when he feels he’s ready.”

The young Elf, smiled at him, “I thank you. But I wish things were different.”

“I’m sorry, love. But be patient, and try to have hope.”

Then Bard changed the subject. “Would you tell me what was it like, growing up with Thranduil? He’s told me, but I’d like to know from your point of view.”

Tauriel sat back in her chair, and stroked the cat. “I barely remember my birth parents. All I remember of my village, is the smell of smoke, and arms reaching to lift me from the cellar. I was frightened, and crying.”

“I’m glad that’s all you remember.” Bard shuddered. “I can’t imagine what they went through.”

She smiled, “I do remember being held by Thranduil, and thinking how pretty his hair and his eyes were. I felt his cheek to see if it was as soft as it looked, and he looked surprised. I wasn’t afraid, because I knew he would take care of me. I  rode through the forest, sitting high up on a horse, in front of _Ada_. He didn’t say anything, but I felt strong arms, and his cloak wrapped around me. It smelled of lavender and spices, and I remember thinking how much I liked it.”

“That’s how Thranduil smells; you’re right.”

She looked into the fire. “My memories of living in the Palace, was much like that first day. He did not say much, but when he was around, I felt safe and protected. He was never unkind to me, as a child; he was just…distant. It was Galion and Legolas who were openly affectionate with me, but _Ada_ was always there, even if he was in the background. It was only after I was grown, that I realized how sad he was inside.”

Bard mused. “He’s so open now, I find it hard to picture him as anything else.”

“I think he had an easier time with me, than with Legolas. He had long reached his majority, and was already a part of the Guard, when I came to the Palace, so I do not know the details between them, but to me, he wasn’t as cold and remote as he believes. Whenever I woke in the night, crying, it was _Ada_ who came to sit with me, until I fell asleep again. I needed him to help me feel better.”  She looked over at Bard, “I think, sometimes, _he_ came to see _me_ when he had a bad dream. Maybe we needed each other.”

“That’s true, Tauriel. He needed you just as much as you needed him. He still does.” Bard looked at her thoughtfully. “Would you answer something, honestly?”

“Certainly.”

“When you see Thranduil with my children, especially Tilda, does it bother you, that he couldn’t be that way with you? Do you feel like you missed out on anything?”

Tauriel considered this question. “I do not think so. As a child, I _did_ feel loved, Bard. Yes, I would have liked things to be different, but only because I knew _Ada_  couldn’t be the way he wanted to be. You must understand, that to my mind, Galion is my other parent, and I look up to him in many ways. I had both them both, and I never wanted for anything. My childhood was not a sad one.”

She looked down, at Farien, and rubbed her behind the ear. The tabby closed her eyes and leaned into her touch, purring in ecstasy.   _“Ada_ is mistaken if he believes I felt neglected. I knew he cared about me; he just had difficulty showing it. He deeply regrets what he missed out on, with Legolas and me, so I am happy he has your children. He has a chance to have fun, and find joy in being a parent.” Tauriel laughed. “It is not hard to see why _Ada_ loves them. I do, as well.”

“Aye, my Sea Monsters tend to grow on you, don’t they? They kept me going for a long time.”

Tauriel giggled. “It is funny to see how Tilda has enslaved him.”

Bard laughed. “’Slave’ is the right word! He’s so fierce and terrifying in Battle, yet one little pout from her, and he’s mush! It’s hilarious! Do you remember how he was that day she tripped, scraped her knee, and started to cry?”

Tauriel threw her head back and laughed, “I have only ever seen him move that fast in combat! And you…”

“What about me?” Bard put his hand on his chest, pretending to be wounded.

Tauriel pointed at him, giggling, “When Tilda lost her tooth, I never saw anyone’s face turn green so fast!”

“Aye, I know. What about the time we had to explain to him about ‘courses?’ Did Sigrid tell you what happened after you all went to bed? I think it hit him, how much he didn’t know about human children, and was scared to death of breaking them, or something!”

Tauriel nodded, and was still laughing. “Lady Hilda and Sigrid were mad at me, because I never had them!”

“Well, can you blame them?”

“No, I cannot!” Tauriel put her hands over her face, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

“We are a ridiculous bunch, aren’t we?” Bard shrugged his shoulders. “I remember when I first saw Thranduil in Dale.” He laughed. “He was such an arrogant bastard, I wanted to kick him in the teeth, and look where we are today. Whoddathunk?”

“Things worked out for the best. I think, somehow, I am _supposed_ to be here. This is where I belong; I feel good about it. I miss the Palace and the forest, of course, but this is exciting, with Dale so new and all the things it can become.” She snuggled the cat, as Farien purred.

Bard smiled. “Your _Ada_ loves you very much. I think he’d be glad to hear how you really felt growing up with him. Maybe you could put that in a letter.”

The _Elleth_ nodded. “You are right; I will.”

“I’m glad we can be friends, Tauriel. We’re all a part of something special. When Legolas is ready, he’ll be welcome, too. Life in Dale won’t be easy, and we’ll struggle a lot before things get better, but I’m glad you’ll be here with us. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Tauriel looked down, shyly. “I did not know any Men before I left the Woodland Realm. I had always thought we would be too different to understand each other.” She looked back up at the Bard and smiled. “I am glad to know I was wrong.”

Bard returned her smile, then got up. “Me too. Now, what do you say we go into the kitchen and scare up something to eat? I’m hungry, and I’ll bet the dog could use a snack, once that big monster realizes I’m gone.” Bard got up and grabbed her hand. “Come on, then. And after, we’ve both got to get some sleep.”

They went into the hallway. Bard sighed, at the closed door to the children’s rooms. “I know one thing we’re going to do right away; get some noise in this place. I can’t stand those empty rooms.”

“I agree. It is too quiet and lonely.”

“First thing tomorrow, I’ll fix that, but right now, I’m starving. Come on.”

Together, they made their way to the kitchens for a snack, with Tauriel’s meowing cat following behind, hoping for a snack herself.

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Tithen Pen_ – Little One  
_Hênig_ – My child  
_Galvorn_ – “Black Steel” (Black metal)  
_Iellig_ – My daughter  
_Tirhûtaw_ – sheep dog (lit. “wool guard dog”)  
_Suilad, Aran nîn_ – Greetings, my King  
_Ni veren an dhe ngovaned_ – I am happy to meet you  
_Tulë, Esta_ – Come, Esta (Quenya)  
_Farien_ – the name of Tauriel’s cat means “Huntress”  
_Thangon_ – A variation of _Thangail,_ “Great Shield,” the dog Thranduil gave to Bard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure and check out the comments...
> 
> Hanany has a delightful tale of meeting a Latin-American version of our beloved Hilda. You’ll love it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhian is recovering from the birth, but she's learning that emotional injuries aren't so easily taken care of. Hannah is determined to help her, but she'll need some help from the Elvenking...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING: Mentions of past domestic violence, and rape.***

 

 

 

The Woodland Realm; 4th of January, 2942, T.A.

Rhian rolled over in her bed, as she studied her surroundings. She liked the clean, white, stone walls, with vines carved along the ceiling. She traced the vines with her eyes, fascinated at how they intersect and meander around the room, making a beautiful border. She looked to her right, and saw the small dresser with drawers, and various items on the top, and then to her left. There in a small cot, lay little Darryn, sleeping peacefully.

Her son. Hers, and no one else’s. And, thanks to King Bard and the Elvenking, no one can hurt her or try to take him away from her.

She should feel happy. She should be jumping with joy. There were moments when she _did_ feel gladness, such as the first time she met Darryn. The Elf King himself placed him in her arms, and promised protection. She felt good the next day, when King Thranduil helped Daeron into her room, declared her boy’s name, and that he was a citizen of his Kingdom as well as Dale.

Rhian shook her head. She could hardly believe it. She had two Kings who wanted to look after her, and a good friend in Daeron, who had come to see her and the baby a couple of times, since he was feeling better. She still didn’t really know what had been wrong with him; only that he was tired but would be all right.

So much was different; it was hard to take it all in.

She was safe - the horror that was her husband was gone forever, and so was her selfish, indifferent father. And she had a healthy son; a miracle in her life, despite all the violence and danger. He truly was beautiful. She felt relieved that he bore no resemblance to Garth; no fiery red hair or pale skin. He seemed to take after Rhian, and  her own Mam, with dark hair and olive skin. But, no matter who or what he looked like, she loved her baby.

At this moment, things couldn’t be better for her. When she first held the baby four days ago, she was amazed, and fascinated; it was magic.

But, besides a pull toward her baby, she still felt empty and frightened.

 _What’s wrong with me?_ She thought. It was all a jumble, a whirlpool of things she _did_ feel, what she _wanted_ to feel, and what she _should_ feel. It all would get to be too much, and sometimes she would shut down entirely, and go numb.

She was _tired…_ She was just so tired, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

“Rhian? Are you awake, dear?” Hannah, the midwife, who helped deliver her baby, had walked in the room.

The girl sat up and nodded. “Aye.”

“How do you feel, love?” The midwife walked to the side of her bed, to feel her forehead and check her heart, then she palpated her abdomen, causing Rhian to wince, slightly. “Aye, I know this doesn’t tickle, but it feels like things are right where they should be. Does your bottom still feel sore?”  
Rhian nodded her head. “Some.”

“Only time will take care of that, sorry to say, but again, you’re healing beautifully, thanks to Daeron and that Elf King. You had a bad time, love, and it’ll take a while for you to regain your strength.”

Rhian blinked. “King Thranduil? I don’t understand.”

Hannah pulled up a chair and went to sit down, but little Darryn woke up, and needed tending to. The woman took the babe from his cot, changed him, and handed him to Rhian to help set her up to nurse. “There you go; that’s it. I know this can take some getting used to, but you’ll get the hang of it, right enough.  I’ll be here to help.”

As the baby was eating, Rhian asked again, “I don’t remember Darryn being born at all, but King Bard told me something about my wounds being healed?”

“Well, I wasn’t there, love. I was taking this young man to be fed by a wet-nurse, until you woke up. I guess no one but the Kings and Elénaril were allowed in the room, so I can’t say what exactly happened. I can tell you what I know, for sure,” Hannah grinned. “While you were trying to give birth, those two Kings paced the floor out there, waiting like two nervous Das, imagine that, if you can!”

The nursing mother looked at the midwife with amazement. “They were?”

“They were. And while they were waiting, King Bard was getting to the bottom of what happened the night Laketown was on fire. We’re all glad about that, aren’t we?” Hannah put her hand over Rhian’s and squeezed a little. “Now, don’t you doubt for a minute he was absolutely right. You did good, Rhian, looking out for this little man here. It’s what a mother does; puts her baby before everything, right?”

Rhian looked down for a moment at her son, and nodded her head. “I didn’t think of it that way then, but Lord Bard was right. I had to choose between my baby, or Garth.”

The midwife looked at her intently. “Do you think you made the right choice?”

The girl met Hannah’s eyes, and said. “Aye. I did. And I’d do it again.”

“Good girl. It feels good to say that out loud, doesn’t it? Anyway, you were so weak, that Daeron put you to sleep, and somehow helped this little man come into the world. Little Darryn gave us a spot of trouble at the last minute, but we made short work of that. It was scary, let me tell you, but he’s just fine, and that’s the best anyone can hope for, isn’t it?” Hannah looked down at the nursing infant. “All these wee ones are precious, aren’t they?”

Rhian nodded, and cupped her hand around the baby’s head. Then she asked, “Daeron put me to sleep? I don’t understand; I thought I had passed out.”

“He said a spell in Elvish, then crawled right up there behind you and helped you and the baby. I don’t know how else to describe it. He told us the baby was a boy, and he needed help and right quick.” Hannah struggled for words. “I’ll never forget it, love. He used his Elf whatchamacallit to help your and the baby come out, but it took a lot out of him. That boy wouldn’t quit until you were both safe. After we had the baby cleaned up, Sigrid took him out to show her Da, then King Thranduil rushed in to help him.  He carried him to another room.”

Rhian looked stricken. “I did that to him? I never wanted him to… I mean he had to be carried?” She felt terrible.

Hannah grabbed her hand. “Daeron did what he did, because you both were going to die, do you understand?  Things were  _that bad._ He saved your lives, and I know he wouldn’t hesitate for a second to do it again, so don’t you feel bad.”

Rhian wasn’t convinced. “Did I hurt him? He looked so tired, when he came to visit.”

“No, love. He was just worn out, but he’ll be absolutely fine. In fact, he’s about to go back to work, guarding the Prince and Princesses, what does that tell you?”

“I just hate the idea of him doing so much… for _me.”_

Hannah wisely didn’t reprimand her, but tilted her head, smiling. “Rhian, let me ask you this: The night of the fires, you made a hard decision to save your baby, didn’t you?”

The girl nodded.

“And what if you were in Daeron’s shoes, and had a way to save not just one life, but two? Can you think of what you would do?”

After a few moments, Rhian nodded. “I would do everything I could do save them. No matter what.”

“And that’s what Daeron did, love. It’s what he does for a living! He’s a soldier, and every day he is ready to put himself in danger, if it means he can save a life. He would do that for anyone regardless, love. It’s his calling. But he is also your friend, and that’s a good thing.”

Rhian nodded, again. “I don’t know why, but he is. He’s never asked anything from me, or seems to want anything of me, except to talk to me, and be my friend.”

“How do you feel about that?” Hannah asked her.

The girl thought about it. “I didn’t like him at all, at first. He wasn’t mean or anything; I just didn’t want anybody near me, and wished he would go away. He would come and visit my tent, after the Battle, and talk with the other women I stayed with. He didn’t make me talk to him, or ask me anything. I felt uncomfortable, until… I wasn’t. He would only talk to me, if I said anything first. That helped.

The midwife said, “He brought you to the Healing tents.”

Rhian nodded. “Only the once, remember? I got… upset.”

“Yes, love, you did. But afterward, Daeron came to me and asked if I could go to you to check you over, because there were too many people there, and it frightened you. That’s why I came to your tent after that.”

“It was his idea?”

“You bet. He wanted you and this little one to be healthy, even back then. And did he ask for anything in return for all of this?”

Rhian shook her head. “He’s never asked for anything.”

“So…? Do you understand now? You’ve no need to feel guilty. He wanted to help you and your baby live, and a good thing, too! Thanks to him, I can sit here and talk with you, and help you with this beautiful little boy.”

They both looked down at Darryn, who had paused in his nursing. Hannah took him, and started burping him.

“I didn’t wake up until the next day. I must have been really tired.”

“Oh, it was more than that! Elénaril put you in a healing sleep to rest, but you weren’t out of the woods, yet. In fact, you were in bigger trouble than any of us imagined! I’m glad I didn’t know how bad off you were, until after they made you better!”  
Rhian’s eyes widened. “I was?”

Hannah continued. “I stayed with you and the baby all that night, because you weren’t doing so good, love. You developed a high fever, and we didn’t know what to do, so when the Kings came to see you, the next morning, Elénaril asked Lord Thranduil to help. Turns out you still had some afterbirth inside you, and somehow, he got rid of it. If the Elf King hadn’t done what he did, you would’ve died. I was afraid for you, love.”

“I still don’t understand…” Rhian said, as Hannah helped Darryn switch sides.

“Apparently, that Elvenking is powerful one, and he not only took care of what was causing your fever, but he found your shoulder all torn up, and he fixed it. Does your arm feel better?”

“Aye,” she smiled. “My side feels a lot better, too.”

“Well, you know your ribs were broken, and they healed on their own, but what you don’t know is that you had what’s called a ‘displaced’ rib fracture.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“I’m glad you didn’t know, and I’m glad for myself, too. When I found out, it frightened the life out of me! What happened, love, is that one of your ribs didn’t heal right. They told me a sharp end of bone was sitting close to your lung. It’s a miracle you didn’t puncture it, when you gave birth!”

The young girl’s eyes opened wide. “It hurt to breathe…”

“Aye, you couldn’t, love, and now we know why, and I thank the Valar every minute of the day you’re all right.” Hannah blinked a few times, as her eyes filled with tears. “No one knew it, because we were so busy worrying about the baby, and I feel terrible about it. But that Elf King re-broke the rib, and put it back together better, along with fixing your shoulder.”

The young girl stared at the midwife with eyes as wide as saucers, taking it all in. “I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it, love.” Hannah smiled, and shook her head, “You know, when King Thranduil first came into Dale on that strange-looking beast of his, I didn’t like the look of him. I was glad for the help, and the food and such, but I thought he was a snobbish arse, to be honest, but don’t tell him that.” She laughed. “He’s as mean as a Warg to his enemies, and he’s every inch a King, don’t forget that. He expects folks to do as he says, but he cares a lot about his people.” Hannah laughed. You should see him with King Bard’s kids. He acts like the sun rises and sets by them; especially little Tilda.” Hannah shrugged. “And he seems to love our King, too. Just goes to show, you never know about people, do you?”

Rhian nodded and looked thoughtfully down at Darryn. “I know. Sometimes… the people who can seem nice at first, turn out to be monsters,” she whispered.

The older woman regarded her seriously, and sighed. “Aye, love. That’s true enough. And I’m sorrier than you can know, for what that man put you through. I want to help you with that, if I can.”

They sat and watched the little one, as he nursed.

After a few moments, Rhian said, “Garth’s dead. I don’t have to worry about him, now, or my Da.”

Darryn seemed to be finished, so Hannah took him, burped him, and settled him back into his cot, so they could continue their talk.

Hannah sat back down in her chair. “Rhian, the ones who hurt you are gone, and your body is much better, but that doesn’t mean that your _hurts_ are gone,” she answered with a gentle smile. “It’s going to take a long time, and some work to get past it.”

“But I feel better, and I can breathe right now.”

The midwife, gently placed her hand on top of the young girl’s. “Hurts that I’m talking of, love, are in the inside,” she said gently. “That man marked you on the outside, but he did a lot more hurt to your heart and your spirit. Those are the things you need to face, love.”

Rhian thought about this, not wanting it to be true, yet Hannah’s words had struck a nerve.

Her stomach churned, and her eyes filled with tears. She’d suffered _so much_ , and to be told she’d have to struggle even more, before she could feel better was disheartening. After all that agony, she desperately wanted the death of her husband and her father to just be the end of her suffering, so the sun could come out, again. But it was as she feared. She really was broken. It felt like she was stuck in long, dark tunnel, and the light ahead had suddenly moved far, far away; out of reach, maybe forever.

Hannah, as if reading her thoughts, asked her, “Rhian, can you talk to me?”

Rhian sighed again, and didn’t say anything for several minutes. Then, began to speak, in a small, weary voice.

“They tell me I’m safe, and that everything is all right, and I want to believe them...and I do, sometimes, but other times… King Bard came, and told me I didn’t do wrong, and he wouldn’t take my baby away, and no one would ever hurt me again. King Thranduil told me that, too, and so did Daeron.” A tear escaped, as she looked down, and picked at the blanket covering her lap. “I know in my head… In my head, it’s true, but inside… and I try so hard… Inside it doesn’t feel true and I still get so scared and sad, and I’m so tired…” She fell silent again, as she tried to explain the whirl of thoughts and feelings.

“I don’t _know_ anything, Hannah…” The tears began to flow, and her breathing became shallow and rapid. “Inside... I don’t _know_ anything!”

“What do you mean, love? Can you tell me?” the woman prodded, gently.

Rhian swallowed, then the words came tumbling out. “People go through things... Things, terrible things happen to people, and… they have… in here,” she put her hand on her heart, “’things’ that help them be strong. Things they just... 'know,' that help them get through bad times.”

She struggled for words, for a moment, then said, “People lost family in the fires, or in the Battle, or because of sickness, and they’re sad, but they have…” she closed her eyes silently pounded her chest. “…I see them look to things they know for sure, in their hearts, and it helps them go on…”

Rhian was talking in gasps, now. She cried in earnest, with her eyes scrunched tight, with tears flowing down her face, and off of her chin. “I d-don’t know how to say it… They think on things they c-can be sure of, they have things they trust… things I want to find inside of me... I try to see… I look… There’s _nothing..._ I don't have anything inside to help me! There’s nothing in h-here,” She really pounded her chest, “…nothing I can _trust,_ nothing I  _ **know** ,_ and I c-can’t really b-believe in good things, because I did, and it all went so wrong, and I’m afraid, and it hurts!  It h-hurts so bad, and I’m scared and I’m s-so t-tired!” Her body was wracked with sobs.

“Oh, my dear, sweet girl.” Hannah quickly got up, sat on the bed and gathered Rhian into her arms. “Oh, you sweet girl…” There were tears on the midwife’s face, too, at the sheer despondency of this young thing, who never should have had her heart and her body abused this way.

The young girl was racked with sobs. “I k-know I shouldn’t… I w-want so bad to feel better…”

“Shh… Shh… You just get it out, lovey. If you need to cry, then that’s what you’ll do.” She continued to hold and soothe the young girl, stroking her hair and holding her tight, as she rocked her back and forth, like the child she was, until she cried out some of her deep, deep pain.

When she started to calm a bit, Hannah took her face in her hands and said, “Oh, Rhian, _of course,_ you don’t trust things right now, and that’s all right. You trusted people, and they hurt you for it. These people _did you wrong,_ when they should have cherished and protected you, love. They hurt you, and that’s their fault, not yours. I know you feel bad, Rhian. I know. But it won’t always be this way, love. And you’re already on the right track to getting better, do you know that?”

Still crying, Rhian asked. “H-How?”

The midwife lifted the girl’s chin. “Because of what you just told me. This is how you feel right now, and you told me about it. That’s how we start to help you get better; talking helps to get the hurt out.”

After a long while, Rhian settled down, and the midwife handed her a cold cloth to wash her face, and a kerchief to blow her nose.

Hannah had to clean her own face, too. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?” She laughed a little, as she blew her nose.

“Let me tell you what I see, love. I see a young girl, who hasn’t been able to relax and feel protected and secure for so long, it’s impossible for you to accept it. Think of it as being stuck in a damp, dark cave for a very long time. You’ve been there so long, you learned to accept it, and to make it home, because you have no choice. But then, all of a sudden, a way out appears, and it looks bright and hopeful. So, you step towards the entrance, and stick one foot out.

But suddenly you think, ‘what if going this way makes things worse than it already is?’ Sometimes, you think, ‘it’s safer to live there,’ because you’ve already learned to live without hope, and you’re familiar with it. If you do leave your cave, and things don’t work out, you’d be so crushed you couldn’t survive it. It makes sense, love. So, as soon as you see the sunshine hit you foot outside of the cave, you start to feel good, and it feels so strange, and it scares you so much, that you pull it back into the dark, and run back to the world you know.”

Hannah looked into the girl’s face. “Does this sound at all like what it’s like?”

Rhian, trying to hold back tears, nodded. “I want to feel good, but I’m afraid to.”

“I know you do. It’s  natural to feel the way you do, and it'll take a while to learn to trust the sunshine. But, if you keep trying, you will one day. And you won’t have to do it alone.” Hannah squeezed her hands. “Now, I have two things I want you to do for me.”

Rhian looked at her expectantly.

“Firstly, I want you to only think about _today._ Not yesterday, or tomorrow, or the next day or the next. Just _today_. Secondly, if you catch yourself feeling anxious, I want you to close your eyes, take two or three deep breaths, and say to yourself, ‘I am safe now, and no one will hurt me,’ over and over. It probably won’t make you feel better today, but that’s all right. Your body only knows how to take things one way, but we’re going to help teach it something different. Don’t think too much about it; just breathe and say it, again and again. Only for today. Practice this, and look after your baby, that’s all. Do you think you do this?”

Rhian nodded, her face still splotchy. “I’ll try.”

“That’s my girl. You need to take life right now in tiny, baby steps. And I’ll be with you all the way, I promise you. You may not believe it now, but saying what you just said to me, and having a good cry about it, is a good sign.”

Hannah smiled. “Now, I’m going to come and see you later today, to see how Darryn is nursing, in case you need more help with that, love. And if you want to talk more, we can. We also need to get you up and walking a little bit, so you can start to get your strength back, all right?” The midwife squeezed the young girl’s hand. “Get some rest, love.” Then she stepped out closing the door behind her.

Exhausted and drained from her outburst, Rhian sighed a few times, then rolled on her side and fell asleep.

 

Once outside of the Healing Halls, Hannah stopped and sat down on one of the stone benches placed against the walls, and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. Once she collected herself, she took a deep breath, and went to find Hilda.

 

***************

 

It was early afternoon, and Thranduil was in his study, when the two women who had requested a meeting with him arrived.

He got up and bowed, “Welcome, Lady Hilda and Mistress Hannah. Please; let us sit here, where it is more comfortable.” He motioned to the small grouping of furniture in his study. “Can I get you something? Wine, or tea, perhaps?”

“Well, I’ve had a busy day, so some tea sounds wonderful. How about you, Hannah?” Hilda asked the midwife.

“I’d love some; you’re very kind.”

The Elvenking went to the doorway to Galion’s office, “Would you please arrange for some tea and refreshments, and see that we’re not disturbed?”

“Of course, My Lord.” Galion got up from his desk, and left.

Thranduil closed the door, then sat down across from them. “I assume you are here to share your concerns about young Rhian and her child?”

The two women looked at each other, “Yes, we are.” Hilda said. “Hannah spent some time with her, this morning, and this girl’s in bad shape, Thranduil.”

“Mistress Hannah, would you care to share your thoughts? What do you see?”

The midwife told the Elvenking everything that she and Rhian had talked about that morning, and her eyes misted over at her despondency. “My Lord, women who have recently given birth can sometimes suffer from depression. Giving birth takes their bodies nine months to prepare for, then it tries to scramble back to normal in a matter of weeks. It doesn’t always go well; I’ve seen it before.”

“Does not the child help to ease her depression?”

“It honestly has nothing to do with how much a mother cares for her child. In fact, the mother often feels guilty for feeling so sad, as if she’s a weak or a terrible person.”

Thranduil steepled his fingers, and looked concerned. “When King Bard and I visited her, and he judged her to be innocent of any crime, and she seemed happy enough to meet her son. Are you saying that she has deteriorated since then? Is she or the child in danger?”

Hannah struggled to explain, “To answer your question, yes. I don’t think she’d harm her child; nothing I see so far has indicated that. But she is… she’s been abused, and badly, My Lord. All the signs are there that she has not only been neglected by her father, not only has she been beaten by her husband, but that Garth has forced himself on her against her will--probably more than once.”

Hilda closed her eyes, and shook her head. “That poor baby. Thranduil, do you realize she’s only a few years older than Sigrid? That could be our girl in there, in that condition!”

Thranduil raised his hand. “I understand your anger and your outrage, and I share it, you must believe me. But, as Elénaril has stressed to everyone, she must be treated with the utmost gentleness and kindness. It is important we keep such emotions between us, and not display them in front of this young girl, and _never,_ do we speak of this to Sigrid, or anyone else, except for Elénaril and Daeron.”

At the mention of the Elven Guard’s name, the women looked surprised.

Thranduil explained. “It was Hilda who brought Rhian’s abuse to our attention, but it was Daeron, who realized the girl had been raped, and informed King Bard and myself. He recognized the signs from his training in Dale, back when Girion was King.”

There was a knock at the door. “Come!” Thrandiul said. Galion entered with another servant, bearing a tray with refreshments. Once they were settled on the low table between them, they bowed and exited. Hilda poured out and passed the plate of small cakes around, causing Thranduil to smile to himself. She was good at taking care of everyone, and the He had to admit it was a comfort. She knew he was missing Bard terribly, and this was her way of showing it.

Hannah took a sip, and asked, said, “May I speak frankly?”

“Of course. I am relying on your candor and expertise, in this matter. Please, what do you need to know?”

“What exactly is Daeron’s interest in this young girl? Please understand; I’m not accusing him of anything, and we haven’t seen or heard anything untoward. In fact, if it weren’t for him, I couldn’t have gotten near her, in Dale. But, she’s in a delicate emotional state, My Lord, and I must know your thoughts. She’s my patient, and I must be sure she’ll come to no harm, even from those who are well-intentioned.”

Thranduil nodded. “I understand you concerns, and you are wise to ask these things. Perhaps I can offer you some perspective.”

Thranduil placed his cup and saucer on the table, sat back, and crossed his long legs. “What I am about to tell you, must go no further than this room, do you understand?”

The two women agreed.

“Daeron is one of my most gifted soldiers. He is among the fastest with the swords, fighting knives, and is an excellent archer, as is his cousin, Turamarth. But he has other abilities, as well.

"Elénaril’s job, when she is not working here in the Healing Halls, is to train members of our military in the basics of the Healing Arts, and she does it well. Long ago, she suggested to me that some members be trained fully as Healers, to serve the medical needs of our villages in the Kingdom, which our Guardians protect as diligently as we can. Daeron was among those who volunteered.

“Some Elves are given special gifts from the Valar, and, as it turned out, Daeron’s is a powerful and unique Healer. He is first and foremost a Soldier, of course, but his combined talents are why I assigned him to guard King Bard and his children.

“Before this, his abilities in combat made it safer for him to travel in our forest and to aid those in our villages, and for many centuries, he traveled throughout our Kingdom, caring for those who needed him, particularly expectant mothers. Daeron has always had a special interest in childbirth, and he has an unusual way of… ‘connecting’ with the unborn child.”

Hannah was fascinated. “So… he’s an Elven midwife! That explains a lot. He was _something_ during Rhian’s delivery, and no mistake. Rhian and the baby were in real trouble, and would’ve died. It took almost everything he had, but he saved them both; he really did! So, not all Elves can do this?”

“No, they cannot. Daeron is a Silvan Elf, and they do not all possess gifts, and generally are not as powerful as we Sindar Elves, but Daeron is an exception. My adopted daughter, Tauriel, is also Silvan, and possesses some Healing gifts, but not nearly to the degree as Daeron.  Even so, it can be draining to do this, because it requires the use of strength from the Elf’s _fëa_ , or spirit. Usually an Elf requires rest afterward, until they are restored.”

Hannah recalled. “He passed out after the baby was born. I was glad to see you, because I didn’t know what was going on, and I had to take care of Rhian and the baby. I’m so glad he’s all right!”

“He did use an enormous amount of his strength to save them, but aside from needing a healing-sleep, and rest, he is recovering nicely.”

“How did Daeron come to work with the people of Dale, or Dwarves even?” Hannah asked.

“This is the part of my story that may explain Daeron’s interest in helping Rhian. Once he finished his initial training with Elénaril, he was sent to Dale for many years, to further his education. While he was there, he was very busy treating not only injuries, but he gained experience with illness and disease.  He helped make changes in the Healing Halls there, so fewer died of infection and fever. He also treated several Dwarves, and helped bring many of Dale’s citizens into the world, including the grandson of Girion. That child was the only survivor of the Royal family, when Smaug first  came to the North and destroyed Dale."

“Imagine that!” Hilda said. “That Elf who guards our Bard, delivered his Grandfather!” She shook her head.

Thranduil smiled. “His Sixth Great-Grandfather, to be precise. During his time in Dale, Daeron encountered a pregnant patient who had been brutalized by her husband in the same ways young Rhian suffered. Including rape.”

“What happened to the girl?” Hilda asked.

“The woman would not name her attacker, and she went back to him. King Girion had them watched, but by the time the soldiers broke into the house, they were too late.  The husband had beaten her to death, and the child died inside of her.  Daeron was was devastated at the loss of two innocent lives in such a senseless way, and... did not take it well.  King Girion sent an urgent message out of concern, and I had him brought back to the Woodland Realm for a time, to recover.”

“Oh, my lands…” Hannah uttered.

“What happened to that husband?” Hilda asked, her eyes blazing.

“He was dealt with… effectively, let us just say that.”

“How does Daeron even know Rhian?”  Hannah wanted to know.

“He met her when we first came to Dale, and he tried to assist her in carrying some water. Daeron saw the bruises, and recognized the signs of a rape in Rhian, and he knew she needed help. Perhaps he also sensed the unborn child would need him as well.”

Hannah nodded. “That makes sense. He’s very gentle with her, and she trusts him. I’m grateful to him for that, My Lord, but I need to make sure he has no ulterior motive. She’s in no shape to be thinking about anything but taking care of her baby, and coming back to herself.”

“I applaud your caution. You say, you see no evidence of his feelings for her, besides friendship?”

“I haven't, and I’ve been watching. I’m also watching to see if she develops feelings for him, too. She’s not ready for that, My Lord. Not at all.”

“I agree, Mistress Hannah. But be at ease. Daeron is honorable, and would never do or say anything to jeopardize Rhian’s recovery. He is a Healer, and knows the well-being of the patient supersedes any personal feelings. I have known Daeron since he was a small child, Mistress Hannah. He is honorable, as are his parents, who work here at the Palace.”

Thranduil assured both women. “I suggest we put the issue aside, unless you observe a problem.  Does Rhian still have trouble leaving her room, or being around noise and crowds?”

Hannah nodded. “She does. I’ve dealt with abused women before, and this happens. She has some good moments, to be sure, but she’s still struggling.”

“Then I am glad she is in such good hands.” Thranduil bowed his head to her. “I have a solution to this matter, if you would indulge me. I propose we set her up in a guest suite here, in the Royal Wing, where it is quieter, and there is much less traffic. The added Guards provided here, will be a visible sign of protection, and she may take comfort in that.”

“I think it would be perfect, but I’m afraid to have her stay alone. She’s too physically weak to care for her baby and an apartment, and it could make her depression worse. Herbs and special teas could help, but she’s a nursing mother, and those things would get to the baby.”

“What do you suggest?” asked the Elvenking.

“Could she stay with you?” Hannah asked Hilda.

“I don’t think I’d be the best roommate,” Hilda said. “As much as I want to help, I’m too busy. The bigger problem is, I don’t have the right temperament.  I'm a ‘doer,’ and can't keep still.  She needs calm, gentleness, and lots of patience, and that’s just not me.” She looked at Thranduil. “I hope you understand.”

“I do, Lady Hilda. It is wise of you to consider this.” Inwardly, Thranduil heaved a sigh of relief. If Hilda had actually wanted to have the girl stay with her, he had no idea how to talk her out of it. He had much affection for the Seneschal of Dale, but he knew how hard everyone worked to avoid her wrath.

He turned to the midwife. “Miss Hannah, are you in a position to move to in with her?”

“I could, My Lord, but it wouldn’t be a good idea. I plan on seeing Rhian several times a week, to help her talk things out, and it could get intense. Between talks with me, her mind needs to rest, and be occupied with other things, until I see her again. If I were living there with her, she’d never get away from it.”

“That is a good point.  May I suggest, that one of my own subjects stay with her this winter? She would receive constant care and companionship, and you could visit her as you need, but not neglect your other duties.”

“Excellent, My Lord!” Hannah brightened. “I plan to release her in about a week. Normally, my mothers would be up and around, but her body won’t fight off infection until she is stronger, and I want her watched closely.”

“Excellent. I shall have Galion set up her rooms and look into someone to stay with her. You will give final approval, of course.”

“Thank you, Lord Thranduil. I appreciate it.”

“The pleasure is mine, Mistress Hannah.”

Hilda smiled at her friend. “I told you Thranduil would help! He’s a good egg, this one.”

Thranduil laughed. “A compliment, indeed. Mistress Hannah, may I ask that you update me regularly as to the Rhian’s progress? During this winter, I am responsible for her, as with everyone from Dale, but she and the child are of special concern to me.”

The women and the Elvenking stood and said their goodbyes. The ladies left for their respective duties, but not before Hilda came back in to place her hand on his arm, “Our Bard is the luckiest man in the world to have you, you know that don’t you?”

The Elvenking took her hand and kissed it. “On the contrary. He is a gift, and so are you.”

He meant it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Dale, Percy is keeping the men's spirit's up by playing practical jokes; oftentimes at Bard's expense.
> 
> Thranduil is catching up on paperwork in his study, when the first batch of letters arrive from Dale. Before he can enjoy letters from his husband, Hilda comes to him with a 'situation.'

W 

 **City** **of** **Dale** , **7th** **of** **January** , **2942** , **T**. **A**.

 

Bard was on his way back to the Great Hall, when Percy and a couple of other Elves rode up. A deer carcass was tied to the back of one of the horses.

“Hey, Bard! Look! Dinner!” Percy grinned.

“Well done, Pers. Did you have fun?”

“I did, although my feet are cold. I’m not used to traipsing around the woods like that. Your dog,” he indicated Thangon, who had gone out with them, “was impressive! He did everything those Elves told him to do! It was a sight to see, and no mistake!”

Bard looked down, “So, you had a good time, boy?” Thangon barked, happily and wagged his tail. “Come on, then. Let’s get back to work, then. _Tulë!”_

Bard had been working in his study for about an hour, while Thangon took a nap in front of the fireplace. Suddenly, he heard a strange noise, and a few minutes later, Bard groaned, loudly. “What the… _Ahhh!”_ waved his hand in the air and fled the room.

He marched into the Great Hall, shouting, “Who the _bloody fuck_ fed my dog LEMBAS?”

A roar of laughter went up. He looked around, but no one would admit to it. Then he saw Percy, standing over by the firepit, studying the flames intently, selectively deaf.

“You bastard!” Bard pointed at him. “It was you, wasn’t it? Don’t give me that look; I know it was you!”

Percy looked at him serenely. “My King, I am hurt, truly hurt, that you’d think I’d do such a terrible thing.”

“You’re completely full of shit, you know.”

“Me?” Percy put his hands to his chest with wide, innocent eyes. Then he said, “I would love to stay and chat, but I am due at the construction site in the Marketplace, My Lord.” He grinned, and walked out.

Bard gritted his teeth and shook his head, before he headed back to his study. Holding his breath, he gathered up the papers he was working on finish his work in his chambers.

The big dog raised his head and tilted it back and forth, wondering what his master was up to.

“You stay here, my friend, all right?” Bard turned to leave the study, and he meant to shut the door behind him, but was struck with an idea. He grinned, and turned back to the dog.

“Hey Thangon? How would you like to spend the day in Percy’s room?”

 

***************

 

 **The** **Woodland** **Realm** , **8th** **of** **January** , **2942** , **T**. **A**.

Thranduil was just beginning to feel like he made a dent in the piles of paperwork on his desk. He’d spent the last three days here, with Galion working away in his adjoining study, quickly and efficiently catching up with his own work. He smiled as he listened to Tilda chatter happily with Galion, as she sat in her chair on the end of his desk, practicing her writing.

School for the children had started five days ago, and the family was beginning to find a comfortable rhythm. After breakfast, the Guards would take the children to the Dining Hall for lessons, and Hilda would work wherever her duties took her that day. Thranduil and Galion would then walk across the wide hallway to their respective offices and get to work. Once school was finished in the Dining Hall, they had their midday meal in Thranduil’s chambers. Then Bain, Sigrid and the rest of the older children would go to the Royal Libraries to work on written assignments and Sindarin lessons, then other various activities scheduled during the week.

Once their session in the Library was finished, Bain would head to the indoor arena for his defense lessons and Sigrid would go to the Healing Halls to work. Daeron had only returned to his duties yesterday, so he was instructing Bain and the other boys.

Tilda came back to the Royal Wing in the afternoons, and was a bit teary at having nowhere to be, but they had planned for this: Thranduil, at least for now, had too much work and too many meetings, so he couldn’t watch her, so he and Galion decided she would go to his study to spend her time. She seemed happy enough; she’d swing her legs as she sat on a tall chair, practicing her writing, or drawing pictures, then Galion would have her sit on his blue couch with a blanket, so she could read to Charlotte, Daisy, and Esta. She usually drifted off for a nap, but he and Thranduil were careful not to point this out. Legolas had always fought his naps, so the Elvenking and Chief Aide knew all the tricks to get around that.

Esta, the black and white _Tirhûtaw,_ seemed to also adjust to life with Bard’s children nicely, too. She was obedient and affectionate, and did a great deal to ease their sadness after their Da had left. Thranduil liked her too. During the mornings, she lay at his feet in his study, and in the afternoons, she listened patiently as Tilda read to her, or snuggled with her as she took her afternoon nap. Esta slept in Bain’s room at night, by her choice. A bed had been provided for her there, but she always ended up snuggled under his arm when he woke in the morning.

 

As Thranduil was putting his signature on yet another supply order, he heard a knock on his door.

 _“Neledâf,”_ he called out.

The door opened, and one of the guards entered. _“Aran nîn,_ the wagons have returned, safely,” she said, placing a wooden box on the desk. “Here are your papers and correspondence from Dale.”

“Thank you. Were there any problems on the road?”

“No, _Aran_ _nîn. The_ road is frozen, so the trip when smoothly.”

“I am glad to hear it. You may go.” The Elf saluted and left.

Letters from Bard and Tauriel!

The Elvenking smiled widely, as he unlocked the box, opened it, and saw several sealed letters with Bard’s writing. He didn’t write in a flowing script, as many do, but printed, in narrow, bold capital letters. His penmanship was unpracticed, but over the winter, he’ll have plenty of opportunity to work on it. The letters from Tauriel were written in her usual beautiful hand, to the children in Westron, and to him and Galion in Tengwar. 

He sighed. He had _so much_ work to do, and letters for their family would have to wait until after dinner.

The one from Bard would wait until after he went to bed. Stars, he missed him!

Thranduil picked up his pen and dipped it into the ink. The sooner he got back to work, the sooner they could share their letters. He smiled when he imagined the children’s glee, when he told them, especially Tilda.  She was taking this separation hard.

He looked into Galion’s study, and saw that Tilda had crawled onto Galions comfortable couch, and fallen asleep, with Esta curled up beside her, keeping watch.  She looked incredibly sweet.  He had grown to love Bard’s children, but his _Tithen Pen_ especially tugged at his heart. Sigrid and Bain were wonderful, but they wanted to work towards their independence, but all this little one wanted most was love and attention, which he and Galion were happy to give.

Suddenly, the door to his office slammed open.  He looked up with a scowl. _Everyone_ knew to knock first!

Hilda came bursting into the room, and she looked upset.

No. Not upset.

_Furious._

“Lady Hilda, is something amiss?”

“Aye, there certainly is! I’ve been having some trouble with two older ladies from Dale, and it seems they won’t recognize my authority, here or anywhere.”

Thranduil seemed skeptical. “Hilda, I am sure you are more than capable of handling this...”

“Normally, you’re right, My Lord, and I tried, but these two bitches cornered Sigrid and Bain and grabbed them -”

The Elvenking leapt to his feet, “They did _WHAT!?”_ he roared.

Galion came rushing in, closing the adjoining door behind him. “Please don’t shout, My Lord! Tilda is napping!” When he saw Hilda and Thranduil’s murderous faces, his eyes widened. “What is wrong?”

“We’ve got ourselves a real problem, Galion.” Hilda said. “Our children were manhandled, and I need you to stay here with the Little Bean,” and turning back to Thranduil, she ordered, “and you need to get your arse to the Throne Room, _right now!”_

She put her hands on her hips. “The guards already have the women there, along with the children, so I need you up on that bloody high seat of yours to put the fear of Morgoth into them. Let’s go!” She turned, “Oh, and don’t forget to put that really tall crown on. If even _I_ can’t scare them, you’re going to need all the help you can get!”

Thranduil was every bit as furious as Hilda, as they rushed to the Throne Room.

“Thranduil!” He heard Hilda shout from behind him.  “Slow down, will you? My legs are shorter!”

She was right, he sighed. In his haste and fury, he'd left her way behind.  Thranduil stopped, and waited for her to catch up. “My apologies, Lady Hilda. I should have realized.” He took her hand and put it into the crook of his elbow.

“Aye, and if I wasn’t so mad, I’d laugh about it. But _no_ _one_ puts their hands on our babies!”

He stopped again. “Are they hurt?” Thranduil could feel his face flushed with fury.

“They’re no worse for the wear, and Daeron got to them quick enough. I doubt those two ladies could have hurt them. But still, to have the nerve to even lay a finger on them… Damnit!” she swore. Then looked up at Thranduil. “Sorry for my language, but…”

“Do not be. I may be using worse language myself, before we are finished. Come. Let us make haste.” He urged her forward.

Thranduil had to admit he was curious. How could _anyone_ not be frightened of Hilda when she got mad?

 

* * *

 

**LETTERS FROM DALE**

 

 **From Bard to Thranduil:**   

> _Hello, My King:_
> 
> _As you can see, I made it to Dale safely, and received your gift, probably just how you pictured it, and yes, I was surprised! Thangon isn’t so bad, and he’s getting plenty to eat, between what I give him, and what the others sneak to him from the tables. You were right; he was depressed and lonely, just as I was when I came back here._
> 
> _The cats you sent are doing a pretty decent job. Percy told me Old Ben had the shit scared out of him when Floyd – that’s what he named the big orange one – first jumped out of the basket and attacked him. The men are still laughing about it, and giving Ben a hard time, but he doesn’t seem to care. He and the cat are fast friends now. When Floyd isn’t hunting mice, or sitting by the fire pit, he’s on Ben’s lap, and sleeps with him in his room at night._
> 
> _You were right about something else, too, love. The silence in this corridor is too fucking loud. It’s awful, and this brings me to another piece of news._  
>  _We’ve made some changes here in this part of the Castle._
> 
> _Your personal things were moved out of your study, and put with mine, and Old Ben uses the room now. He’s been dubbed our City Planner, and needed the space to lay out his drawings and diagrams. We’ve moved Tilda’s bed in there for him, and the extra heat from the fireplace helps his joints. He’s made the most of it, and is very busy in meetings with the building crews, from all three Kingdoms, so and I’ve no doubt the construction will commence in a few days._
> 
> _Old Ben and I spoke about Rhian, and the night of the fires. It seems her father was just as much of a bastard as her husband. Ben’s wife was a cousin to Rhian’s mother, so Ben and his late wife tried to keep an eye on her. Her father beat her or… anything else. He just married her off to that horse’s arse just to get rid of her._
> 
> _I told Ben about the night of the fires, and the extent of her injuries, and how you helped her, and he said to tell you thank you. He had some choice words for that husband - the man swears worse than I do, if you can believe it!_
> 
> _Please relay the message to Rhian that Ben bears no ill will about lying to him, and he’s proud of what she did to save herself and the child. Hopefully, this might ease her._
> 
> _Feren has taken over Bain’s room, for the winter, and we’ve moved a table in there for his paperwork. It’s a lot easier than Percy and I always hunting him down. He’s begun the weapons training with me, and so enough said about that. Tauriel will be working with me, too._
> 
> _We’ve moved a man named Alun into the girl’s room. He used to work for the Master and manage his accounts, yes, but he has a reputation for being an honest and good man, and did his best to allocate as much funds as he could for the people of Laketown, before the Master and Alfrid could prevent it. He’s assisting Ben and Percy with the costs involved in the rebuilding, and will work with Gloin from Erebor to manage our Treasury there._
> 
> _Alun’s son, Rhys, is currently with you, and he’s staying with his grandmother, Ina, and her sister, Iola. He and Bain are friends, so you might come across him now and again. The boy’s a good lad; we’ve had him at the house in Laketown a few times, and he’s got good manners and seems to be a good influence on our body._
> 
> _I should warn you: those two ladies are not the easiest to get along with. I’m sure Hilda can tell you all about it, because those two gave her trouble in the camp, before they left. Alun tells me they were personal friends of the Master, and Ina was the one who had the Master give Alun the job._
> 
> _Tauriel loves the grey tabby cat and named her Farien, which she tells me, means “Huntress.” She tries to keep busy, and is keeping a stiff upper lip. She misses you, Thranduil. That’s a good thing, love. Aside from that, though, I think she’s liking her life in Dale. You were right when you told me she wasn’t made to stay_
> 
> _Much of my day is spent in meetings in the mornings, then we go out and start building, where and when we can. The Elves and Dwarves do the roofs and stonework, not being affected by the cold as much, and our men work in the insides. The evenings are spent with Percy and Tauriel, while we learn Sindarin, and play Draughts or Stratagem._
> 
> _Of course, Thangon follows me wherever I go, but his favorite place is in front of the fireplace in my study. He’s feeling better, I think. I must confess to you, that he sleeps on your side of the bed and night, so good luck convincing him to give up his space when you come back! Serves you right for surprising me with him, Ha Ha._
> 
> _See you soon. I miss you more than I can say._
> 
> _Gi melin, Thranduil. Always._
> 
> _Bard_
> 
> _P.S. Did you know that damned dog snores? It’s enough to wake the dead!_

* * *

 

 **From Percy to Hilda:**   

> _To My Dear Wife:_
> 
> _How are you faring there? How are the children?_
> 
> _The Great Hall is looking pretty good. Those cats Thranduil sent are always on the job, and I don’t mind telling you I’m glad they’re here. It was miserable with all those damned critters running around. Remind me to tell you how Old Ben met one of them, when I see you. I could hardly breathe, I was laughing so hard!_
> 
> _Things are much slower since you’re all gone, but we’ve got plenty of work to do. There’s a main room back farther in the Castle that’s fairly weatherproof, so the Elves have been training us in weaponry. It keeps us fit, I’ll tell you that! I catch myself, as I go through my day, moving my arms, practicing our forms. We all do that. Feren and Tauriel work with Bard privately, although I’m not sure why._
> 
> _Old Ben has been the busiest, I think. He’s been arranging the schedules and dispersing materials to build. Them Elves don’t feel the cold, and don’t get hurt when they climb up high, so they mostly work on the outsides, while we men get the insides done. The Dwarves are bringing stone and laying it out for some of the bigger buildings, when it doesn’t snow._
> 
> _We also go out hunting a lot, which is a nice break. Yesterday I went with some other Elves and we brought back some venison. We’ll be having it tomorrow night for supper._
> 
> _When we were out in the woods, one of the Elves gave me some of their special bread, to eat. It tasted good, and I was surprised at how full I was, after only a little._
> 
> _You’ll laugh at this, love. I made the mistake of giving Bard’s dog a bite of it, and later that day, Bard came into the Great Hall, yelling his head off, wanting to know what “arsehole gave Thangon some Lembas?”_
> 
> _Seems that Elvish bread made that great bloody beast fart all over Bard’s study, and it nearly knocked him over, it smelled so bad! Valar, it was funny! He had to take his work into his bedchamber - it took hours to get the smell out! Once I stopped laughing, I told him it was me, I was sorry. But I’ll be sure to remember that, if our boy gets too full of himself, and needs to be taken down a peg or two._
> 
> _We play a lot of Stratagem and Draughts a night, thanks to all the boards King Thranduil sent. We even had some of the Dwarves playing. The best player of Stratagem is, would you believe it, Bifur. Remember him? He was the Dwarf that went around with that piece of axe stuck in his head? Whoddathunk it? He’s mopping the floor with all of us, except Feren! They haven’t played yet, and the bets are about 50/50 on that one._
> 
> _I’ll write more as soon as I can. Must get to bed. We’ve got to work more on the buildings on the Market tomorrow, so it will be a long day._
> 
> _Your husband,_
> 
> _Percy_
> 
> _P.S. Bard is a complete bastard! Seems after I told him it was me that gave his dog Lembas, he put Thangon in MY room! Ulmo’s balls, did it stink!_

* * *

 

 **From Bard to Sigrid:**   

> _Hello, My Sweet Girl,_
> 
> _I don’t need to ask if you’re behaving yourself; I know you already are. I don’t need to ask if you’re keeping yourself busy, either. Knowing my girl, you are constantly at it, attacking the day with as much energy and determination that your mother had._
> 
> _I am wearing the latest pair of socks you made me, and yes, my feet are very warm. I love them, and am looking forward to more. Uncle Percy says to make him some, too. His feet are colder than mine, and he’s jealous! I know Hilda is frantically busy now, so if you would find some nice blue yarn and whip them up, he’d appreciate it._
> 
> _We’re keeping pretty warm here. Staying in the Great Hall was a good idea. The older men have rooms, because they’re easier to heat, and the younger ones have cots lined up along the walls on either side, with the long tables set up in the middle. The cooking is fairly decent, but not like Auntie Hil’s. I’m sure she’d love to hear that. It most certainly is better than mine, but you’ve always known I was a terrible cook._
> 
> _Did Ada tell you he sent us some animals? Yep! He sure did. We’ve got some cats running around, and he also gave me a personal pet, which I think is a cross between a dog and and an Olyphant! I can’t wait for you to meet him. Commander Feren tells me that several dogs like him have been bred to help the Elves hunt and protect them in the forest at night. He only looks scary; he’s really a big bowl of mush (which he also loves to eat, by the way)._
> 
> _How are Rhian and the baby? I know I told you how proud I am of you for helping her, but I want to say it again. That day, you behaved like a true Princess of Dale, and you did not only your old Da proud, but your country, as well._
> 
> _I miss you terribly, and I know you miss me, but please try to do all you can, and learn all you can while you’re there, my girl. This is a wonderful opportunity for all of you._
> 
> _As for me, I am learning, too. Tauriel is in charge of giving Uncle Percy and me Sindarin lessons, and she goes over the lessons every night. But I know you’ll do better than me, though. You’re sharp like your Ma._
> 
> _I hope Bain and Tilda are doing well. I am sending them letters, too, don’t worry. I know you will look after them, whether I remind you too, or not, but please, take some time to be a young girl and have some fun._
> 
> _I will see you soon, darling. Before you know it, your Ada will be bringing you all back to me._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Your old Da_
> 
> _* * *_

**To Hilda, from Bard:**  

> _Dear Hil,_
> 
> _Greetings from the Great Hall of Dale! As I am writing this to you, I am sitting along one of the long tables in the center, having just worked my shift in the kitchens. I sure miss your cooking, love. These men are doing their best with your recipes, and trying to follow them to the letter, but no one can do a good Fish Pie like you. It just doesn’t taste the same. Tomorrow is chicken soup, with your special biscuits, and the day after, they’ll do their best to attempt your chowder._
> 
> _Hilda, I could never begin to think of doing all this in Dale if I didn’t have you or Percy. I hardly remember a time when I didn’t know you! When Mattie and I were married, you were the best friend she ever had, and you always were mine._
> 
> _He misses you terribly, Hil, but don’t worry. I’m trying to keep Percy out of trouble. He’s put himself in charge of keeping our spirits up, so he’s arranging tournaments and competitions in archery, Stratagem, and even Draughts. Somebody was talking about Darts, but they’ll have to see the Dwarves about making them._
> 
> _When that fails, “someone” plays pranks to entertain the us, usually at my expense. I don’t mind. They’re good men, and it’s all in fun. It’s only been three months since the Battle, and almost four months since the Dragon came. Many have lost loves ones, and still feel their loss. Thank the Valar, our Pers knows the value of laughter. As long as they can laugh, they’re not fighting or being sad._
> 
> _I won’t ask you to look after our children, because I know you already are. I know you’ve taken Thranduil and Galion into your heart, just as you did for Mattie, me, and the children._
> 
> _How is the situation with Rhian? I know her recovery will be slow; after all she’s been through, it will take a lot for her to feel safe again. Please let me know of her progress. She can’t seem to handle unexpected noise of any kind. Sigrid spoke to me about placing her away from the hubbub of the Visitor’s Wings. I think she’s right._
> 
> _Well, I’ll close for now, but I’ll write again, as soon as I can._
> 
> _Love always,_
> 
> _Bard_

* * *

**From Feren to Glélindë:**   

> _To my Dearest Wife,_
> 
> _I think of you there in our home, and it brings warmth to my heart. We have suffered many separations in our life together, and I am grateful for your support and patience, while I’m away, and the loving embrace I receive when I’m home._
> 
> _Now, when I picture our home, I see you, Gruffudd, and little Alis and Dafina. I am glad you wanted to meet the girls, and I could see within moments, you felt the same way about them._
> 
> _I know your work is very busy, making sure your visitors have plenty of clothes to wear. Your skill in this art was what brought us together, do you remember?_
> 
> _I had bought several pairs of leggings and a new cloak from the Guild, and they were so well done, I asked Taenya to meet the one who had made them. From the first moment I saw you, I thought you beautiful. How could I not, with your lovely auburn hair and those beautiful eyes? But when you smiled, and I saw your dimple, I fell I love with you then and there._
> 
> _I know it seemed I didn’t like you, at first, but that was only because my life as a soldier can be very harsh. I could lose my life, and I couldn’t that to you. At best, a soldier’s life is not easy, but with ever-growing evil in the forest, it seemed impossible._
> 
> _For a long time, I told myself that, if I could not marry you, I could at least dedicate my life to making you safe. Sometimes it was enough._
> 
> _Then, the Queen noticed us. She saw that I couldn’t take my eyes of you. She sent for me and persuaded me to tell her of my affection for you. I tried to explain I was doing you a kindness, but she would hear none of it. “Life can be dangerous in the best of times, Commander,” she told me. “We must never turn away a chance at love,” were her words._
> 
> _She was right, of course, but how could I know you felt the same way about me?_
> 
> _Do you remember the day I was walking in the King’s Gardens, and you saw me? We sat and talked for hours, that day. I do not think you knew this, but Queen Mírelen arranged it all! I was hesitant to go out there and see you, but she made me go. I had to find out, she said, and she was right. Finally, I mustered my courage, and went looking for you. I was nervous, but after a few moments, it seemed like we had known each other forever!_
> 
> _Through the years we have been together, you have only brought happiness to me. It is too sad to think that the Darkness in the Forest prevented us from conceiving our own child, but perhaps, now that we have Alis and Dafina, we will know that joy, even if only for a short time._
> 
> _I say we have them now, because I am positive that this will come to pass. I only had to see the love in your eyes, when you met the little ones, to know that they belong nowhere else. Even more, they instantly fell in love with you, too!_
> 
> _I shall write again soon. Please take care of yourself and our new family._
> 
> _Gi Melin,_
> 
> _Feren_

* * *

 

 **From Bard to Bain:**  

> _Hi Son,_
> 
> _So… How are things in the Woodland Ream? I don’t have to ask if you’re practicing your sword work. My question is, are you keeping up with your lessons?_
> 
> _Come to think on it, I know you are, because Galion would never let you get away with skipping them. It’s all right. I promise, someday all that stuff you’re learning will be useful to you._
> 
> _I’m sure Thranduil told you he gave me a dog. Let me tell you, he’s HUGE! Thangon tries to keep me from being lonely, but he can’t stop me from missing all of you. Thranduil also sent Tauriel a cat, and it makes feel better. At the moment, she is visiting Erebor, so Farien, the cat, stayed in my room last night. She gets along with the dog, so long as the Thangon does everything she says. A sassy one, she is. Just like your mother. She’s a grey tabby, in case you kids are wondering. The other cat I don’t see much, because he likes to hang around Old Ben._
> 
> _Have you started with your bow, yet? Please let me know how you’re doing with it. I can’t wait to shoot with you, come spring. I don’t brag, as a rule, but you get your natural talent from your Da and your Grandad Brand. You’ll do us both proud. Practice your Draughts and Stratagem moves, too. I’ve played it so much, I should be able to be honest competition for you and Thranduil when you get back._
> 
> _I will always love you and be proud of you._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Da_

* * *

 

 **From Tauriel to Thranduil:**  

> _Gi suilannon, Ada,_
> 
> _As you know, Bard arrived safely and so did the supply caravan. I wanted to write you this letter right away, so it will be ready when wagons return to you._
> 
> _Thank you so much for the cat! I love her, and I have named her Farien, as she is a fine Huntress. It took her and the male five days before they cleared the_  
>  _halls and rooms of mice, and now my girl spends her days patrolling, ever vigilant._
> 
> _She sleeps on my bed at night, and her purrs easily help me sleep. I am glad of it, because without you, Galion, and the children, I am lonely. I look forward to seeing you all again, soon._
> 
> _The weeks I spent with our family in Dale before you left, have been some of my happiest times. The best things in life are ordinary peaceful times spent with loved ones. I hope I never forget that, wherever life takes me._
> 
> _Ada, I know you think you were a terrible father to me. I promise, you were not! I always knew you wanted to be closer to Legolas and me. You must believe me; between you and Galion, I truly wanted for nothing, except to see joy in your eyes. Now that you have that, I know the Valar has answered my prayer._
> 
> _I know in my heart Legolas loves you, too. I pray to the stars every night for him, that he will find his way back to his home, and to you. I think it is good that I am not in the Woodland Realm anymore; he must feel free to come and go without causing himself further pain. I will miss my friends in the forest, and my rooms in your Palace, but I think you might be feeling my absence more keenly than I._
> 
> _I belong here now, Ada, and I have walked through the woods here and connecting to the trees, here. I do not think I would have found purpose or contentment with life in the Woodland Realm, so you blessed me by releasing me from duties there._
> 
> _Bard and I sit in his study in the evenings, speak of many things. He is becoming a good friend, and I hope he feels the same. I can see the qualities in him that you find appealing. He is a good man, and will be a fine, compassionate King for his people, with your help. After so much loss and devastation here, it is good to be working on the many possibilities that lie ahead._
> 
> _Please write and tell me how the children and Galion are doing. And tell me how you are, Ada._
> 
> _Mil, Tauriel_

* * *

 

**From Bard to Tilda:**

> _Hi, Little Bean,_
> 
> _I hope you’re being good. Have your teeth started growing in, yet? I don’t know if you’ll lose anymore while I’m here, but, if you do, and Thrandool has a fit, don’t worry. He’s just being an Ada, and he’s never had little human girls. He’s funny when he starts talking in Elvish and gets excited, isn’t he?_
> 
> _I’ll bet he’s sitting right there, while Sigrid is reading this to you, and has one of those ‘looks’ on his face, doesn’t he? If he is, just look at him and give him one of your big, sunny smiles, which is now even cuter with your missing teeth!_
> 
> _I hope you’re taking good care of Charlotte and Daisy. Are you making sure she’s kept warm, and always wears her Guard’s uniform when Bain is practicing?_
> 
> _Tauriel says to tell you hello and she misses her little sister. She just got back from Erebor, where she was visiting her friends. Bofur says hello, and hope you and all the children are enjoying their toys. King Dáin was asking about all of you, too._
> 
> _I hope you’re having a good time there, and make sure you listen to Thrandool and Galion and do what they tell you. Oh, and listen to Auntie Hil, too. You know she loves her Beanie as much as everyone else does._
> 
> _See you before you know it, darling._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Your Da_

* * *

 

 **To Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda, from Tauriel:**  

> _Greetings from Dale,_
> 
> _I miss you all very much. Bain, are you practicing with Daeron every day? You must keep up with your studies, or Galion will not permit you to have your lessons. I know this, because he was the same way with me. “Studies must always come first,” he would say, and he is right. Do not be stubborn, like I was, because it will do you no good._
> 
> _Galion is the finest of teachers, and whether you are learning with the other children, or learning with him in the library, he will make sure you are all doing your best. He may not tell you so, but I know he is very fond of you all. He is the kindest of Uncles to have. He was loving to me as a child, and someone to go to with my thoughts and troubles when I was older._
> 
> _So, Sigrid and Tilda, how do you like my room? I loved that apartment. In fact, if you look behind the dresser along the bottom of the south wall, you might find my Secret Hiding Place. It was a little compartment I made to hide special stuff that I liked when I was little. I haven’t thought of it in years. I doubt there is anything in it, but you are welcome to look, and to hide secret things, if you want._
> 
> _Bain, you are staying in Legolas’s bed, are you not? Isn’t it beautiful? It was a gift to his mother and father from his grandparents in Rivendell._
> 
> _I have visited the Dwarves, and enjoyed myself very much. It was only overnight, because I did not want to leave your father for too long, but the Dwarves were nice enough to give me a permanent apartment for my very own. Wasn’t that nice?_
> 
> _I love my new cat. Her name is Farien, and she hunts mice much better than the male cat here, who tends to be lazy. Since most of the mice have been caught now, he just sits around, wanting to be fed fish. He will get fat, if they don’t watch it._
> 
> _Your Da likes the big dog Ada gave him, but everyone here has learned the hard way never to give him Lembas. Your father has posted an Official Decree in the Great Hall, that whoever gives him our Elven bread, must be locked in a small room with him for rest of the day. Luckily for everyone here, only your Uncle Percy and one other man, have learned their lesson._
> 
> _Please write me soon, and tell me how you all are._
> 
> _Your sister and friend,_
> 
> _Tauriel_

* * *

 

 **To Tilda from Bofur:**  

> _Dear Lady Tilda,_
> 
> _Greetings from your Dwarf friends!_
> 
> _I hope you are having a good time this winter. I must tell you, King Dáin and all of us here in Erebor, will be glad when you all return._
> 
> _We’re working to get Dale ready for you and your families when you return. Many houses are being built and I hope you like them._
> 
> _Are you being a good girl for Thranduil? I’m sure you are, and your Da says so too. He says you lost another tooth. Mahal left you a gold coin, when you put it under your pillow, didn’t he? Just like I told you he would!_
> 
> _Please be good and work on your Sindarin, because next, you should be learning to speak Khuzdul, so you can understand us! Don’t worry, it will be fun._
> 
> _Your friend,_
> 
> _Bofur_

 

* * *

 

 **To Rhian, from Ben, City Planner of Dale:**  

> _My Dear Girl,_
> 
> _When Feren came back from the Elven Palace and told me you had a son, I was so relieved and happy, and wished my dear wife was still here. I miss the times you would come to our home and visit us. She was a wonderful woman, and, wherever she is, she and your mother are looking down on you fondly._
> 
> _Lord Bard has told me the full story of the night I came to get us out of Laketown. I told him the same thing I’m telling you: You, dear girl, did absolutely nothing wrong. In fact, I’m proud of you for doing what you did! You helped save lives that night, and when you look down and see that little boy, you just think on that._
> 
> _I’m glad that Elf Guard is your friend. They tell me he saved your life and the baby’s, so you tell him thank you, will you?_
> 
> _Please write and tell me about that son of yours. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll grow up to be a handsome as his Uncle Ben!_
> 
> _The very kindest regards to you,_
> 
> _“Old” Ben_

 

* * *

 

 **To Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda, from Percy:**  

> _Hello, kids!_
> 
> _Uncle Percy here. Just wanted to check in on you Sea Monsters. Are you looking after your Auntie Hil, for me? Make sure she gets enough rest, will you? She doesn’t like to slow down, so you might have to crawl in her lap, Tilda and make her read you some stories._
> 
> _Bain, see if Thranduil can get you another small knife, so you can practice whittling again. That was my favorite thing to do with you; even more than fishing. You’re pretty good, too. You’re much better than your father – he was always rubbish at it – so I look forward to seeing what you can make when you come back._
> 
> _Sigrid, my girl. Just stay as beautiful as you always are, and I imagine you’ll be even smarter when you come back. I know everybody tells you you’re just like your Ma, but I promise you, you’ve got a lot of your Da in you, too, and you do him proud. But don’t tell your Da that, or he’ll get a big head, and there’ll be no living with him! Most of all, though, you are yourself, and I hope you never change._
> 
> _Oh, and if your Da tells you that I like to play pranks on him, don’t believe him! He’s just whining!_
> 
> _See you all soon. Be good, but don’t be too good! And don’t tell your Auntie Hil I said that!_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Uncle Percy_

* * *

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Tulë_ \- (Quenya) Come

 _Tirhûtaw_ – Collie (Lit. “Wool Guard Dog”)

 _Neledâf_ – Come in (Lit. “Permission to Enter”)

 _Aran nîn_ – My king

Brannon nîn – My Lord

 _Ada_ – Dad

 _Lembas_ – Elvish waybread; one bite is as much as a meal. (It also gives Thangon terrible gas.)

 _Gi suilannon, Ada_ – I bring you greetings, Dad

 

**NOTES:**

Stratagem – Chess. In the Elves call it _Dagornaw_.

\- The earliest known game of chess goes back to the 6th century in India, although Persia, after it was conquered by the Arabs, developed it into the version we know today. Some historians believe that the Chinese had a part in this as well. Either way, the game is ancient, so I see no reason why Middle Earth wouldn’t have its own. Besides, it’s my fantasy verse, and I can do what I want, so there.

Draughts – Checkers


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid learns an important life lesson, with her Ada's help, then he shows her something very special to him.
> 
> Hilda's used to holding everything together and keeping things running, but even she has limits.
> 
> Through letters written to Dale, we find out what happened with those two ladies who manhandled Sigrid and Bain, but sadly, there is more to the story than even they know...

 

 

 **13th** **of** **January** , **2942** **T**. **A**.

 

“Sigrid? Are you well?”

Thranduil had walked into his chambers and saw the girl sitting on the couch in the children’s apartment. He quickly went through the adjoining doorway with concern.

Sigrid looked up at him, sadly, as the Elvenking sat down next to her, “What is it, _Iellig?”_

“I’m not sick, _Ada._ I just came from the Healing Halls. That patient Elénaril was so concerned about, just died.”

“I am sorry to hear that. I thought he was recovering.”

“He was starting to. He lost his parents in the fires, and the girl he was about to marry died during the Battle, beside Auntie Hil, so he had no one left. I didn’t want him to be alone, so I sometimes sat and talked with him, to keep him company."

“What happened?” Thranduil raised his arm, as Sigrid leaned against him, so he could hold her. She wasn’t crying – Sigrid didn’t often cry – but she was clearly upset.

“He just… stopped. I don’t know how else to explain it. He was badly burned in the fires, and Elénaril was able to ward off infection, while so much of his skin healed, but she thinks his body just got tired of fighting. His heart was sounding weak earlier, and she told me he wasn’t going to last long.”

“Perhaps his spirit got weary as well as his body.”

Sigrid turned her head and looked up at him. “I don’t want to think it, but maybe you’re right.”

“Is that why you are sad, _Iellig?”_

“I’m mostly sad that he felt so alone. I thought I would be upset when he passed, because I never saw anyone die before. Not up close, anyway, but I just hated the idea of his dying all by himself.  Please don’t be mad, but I sneaked out of classes to sit with him. I wanted to make sure he had someone with him, and hold his hand."

Thranduil didn’t think for a moment that Sigrid’s movements went undetected; Daeron was undoubtedly aware of her concern for this patient, would have sent a Guard to follow her at a discreet distance, and he made a mental note to speak with him, later.

“I am not angry, Sigrid, but you should have told me, or Galion, at least. We must always know where you are, for your safety.  None of you children can go off by yourselves, ever.  Do you understand?"

“Would you have let me go? I was afraid you’d say no, and I _had_ to be there!”

Thranduil lifted her chin. “Yes, _Iellig,_ I would have.  No one who is leaving this world, should be alone.  It cannot always be helped, but whenever possible, someone should be with the dying to ease their way into the next life.  How do you feel about doing this?  Are you all right?”

Sigrid turned her head and grew pensive. “I am. I can’t explain it. I thought it would be horrible, but it seemed so peaceful. It was like, he knew his time was over here, and was ready to go. In a weird way, it was beautiful.”

“Your friend went on to see his family, and who would not be happy about that? Being a witness to something like this, can be very powerful.”

“Do you believe that’s true, or is it just something people tell themselves, when someone dies, so they can accept it?”

“Perhaps it is both. It is true that there is an afterlife. People also remind themselves of this, when they have lost a loved one.   When we remind ourselves that they have gone to a place of peace, it helps us feel better, because we who are left behind, must bear the painful burden of going on without them.”

“Like Da did with Mam? He was so sad, when she died. I don’t know how he did it.”

“I believe your Uncle Percy and your Aunt Hilda helped a great deal. You children helped him, too. Your Da has told me about that terrible time.”

“Who helped you, when your wife died, Ada? Was it hard for you?”

Ah. A tough question, but a fair one. “It was very hard, Sigrid. Galion helped me, as much as he could. As I’m sure you are learning in your studies, a grieving Elf faces danger of fading, when a spouse dies."

“I know a little bit. Is that what happened to you?”

“Yes. I struggled for a very long time. But I had help, from Galion, and by remembering the promises I made to my wife. I did not fade, but I was very unhappy, and unable to face even the joys of life. It was not until some things happened during the Battle, and loving your father, that I could learn to live to the fullest, again. Other, unexpected things from the Valar, helped as well."

"What kind of things?" she asked.

“That I cannot tell you, but it does not matter what they are.  What matters is this: you will often find, when terrible things happen, that things and people we rely on, can fail us. At the same time, help comes to us from unexpected places.  You must always be open to this, when you find yourself in pain.”

“How did Da help you with your wife? She died so long ago.”

“This is true, _Iellig_ , but your Da helped me talk about her. He wanted to know about all the things I loved. I like learning about your mother, for the same reason. It is important to share our hearts, and not let things bottle up. I did the latter, and it made things much worse.”

“You don’t have any drawings or paintings of her. What did she look like?”

Thranduil smiled, and got up, holding out his hand. “Come, and you shall find out for yourself.”

They went through the halls, followed by his guards, until they came into a room the Palace used for storage. They stopped at a crate, and Thranduil ordered a guard to open it. Inside, wrapped in thick blankets were several portraits. He took a smaller bundle out of the crate and unwrapped it.

 _“Ada!_ She’s so beautiful!” Sigrid stepped forward, and traced the outline of Mírelen’s face.

The painting was of Mírelen, shortly after they had been married. She was wearing a green dress, with embroidery on the bodice, and her diadem had green jewels in it. She was sitting in their garden, holding a bouquet of white lilies, as the sun shone on her hair, accentuating the waves that framed her face. Thranduil had not seen that face for over nine hundred years, and it stunned him for several moments. His heart began to pound, and he could feel the anxiety gather in his chest. He took a deep breath, and stepped forward. He wanted to see her, to face it.

He was ready.

“She was lovely, was she not?” He touched the painting above her collarbone, and took Sigrid’s hand. “And her heart was even more beautiful.”

“Why are these pictures boxed up?”

Thranduil smiled down at her. “Why indeed? What do you think?”

“I think you were too sad to see them, because you missed her too much.” Sigrid looked more intently at Mirelen's face. “Legolas looks like her.”

“He does. He is very like her, except for his hair and eyes. He gets those traits from my side. My father, King Oropher had the same coloring.”

“I wish I had a picture of my Mam. I hardly remember what she looks like anymore, and Tilda doesn’t know her at all. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Does your father not tell you how much like your mother you are?” Thranduil reminded her.

Sigrid sighed. “Yes, he does. I’m proud of it, but it’s not the same, is it?”

The Elvenking squeezed her hand. “No. It is not. You have Bard’s chin, I think. _Hênig,_  it not important that you be a copy of your mother, for anyone's sake; especially your own. It is nice to resemble someone you loved, but, most of all, you are _you._ If your mother was still living, I think she would tell you this, too." He smiled down at her. 

Thranduil turned back to the paintings. “I believe it is time for these to be appreciated by my people once more, do you not agree?”

Sigrid nodded her head. “Would Legolas like it, too?”

“I believe he would, _Iellig,_ and it is my hope that he will see it for himself, one day.”

 

Later that evening, over dinner, Thranduil said, “Children, have you finished your letters to Dale? The supply wagon will be leaving early tomorrow morning, and we are gathering the correspondence this evening.”

“I’m done!” said Bain.

“Me too! I wrote to Da, and I even wrote to Tauriel and Uncle Percy!” Tilda grinned. “Galion wanted me to write them when I sit at his desk, and he even said to draw them some pictures, and I did!”

“That is excellent, _Tithen Pen;_ where are they now?”

“They are already in the box, My Lord,” said Galion, as he was serving dessert.

“He put them in right away. I’ve been working at them all week, so they would be ready.” Tilda was proud of herself.

“I have some colored pencils you might enjoy using in your drawings; would you like to borrow them?”

The little girl got excited. “Color? Ooh!” she clapped her hands together.

Sigrid finished chewing, “As soon as we’re done, Bain and I will get our letters. I’m done, too. What about you, Auntie Hil?”

“Aye. I’ll get them now; I’m finished eating, anyway.” Hilda got up out of her chair, and had almost made it to the door, when her knees buckled. Galion rushed to her and managed to catch her before she hit the floor.

 _“AUNTIE HIL!”_ Bain shouted.

They all flew out of their chairs and gathered around the woman, cradled in Galion’s arms.

“I’m… fine.” Hilda whispered. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

“No wonder you're tired, Auntie Hil. You’ve been going at top speed since Laketown!"  Sigrid was concerned. “Ada, you should take her to see Elénaril. I think she should be checked.”

“I agree,” Thranduil said, and he and Galion got her to her feet.

“No, I don’t need to see any healer! I’m fine I tell you!” Hilda protested. “Stop worrying about me.”

“I am sure you are fine, and we intend to make sure you stay that way.” Over Hilda's protests, Thranduil and Galion steered her toward the door. The Elvenking looked at the faces of all the children. “Would you please come with us? I’ll need your help to make sure your Auntie Hil gets there, I think.”

Tilda took Sigrid’s hand, and together, the little group headed for the Healing Halls, with Hilda arguing the entire time.

“You're using the kids to blackmail me, aren't you?"

Thranduil looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. “I admit nothing.”

 

***************

 

LETTERS FROM THE WOODLAND REALM

 

* * *

**To Bard from Thranduil:**

> _Meleth nîn,_
> 
> _I used to love my rooms here, but now I can barely stand them; they are cold and lonely without you. I wake in the night, reach for you, and find only the empty space where you were. I walked into our closet last week, thinking of our last night together here, when you gave me the necklace. That was so wonderful, wasn’t it? In fact, since you left, I wear the necklace every day, to remind me of you._
> 
> _I am sorry to say I had a terrible dream about the dragon two nights ago. I won’t speak of it, except to say that Galion came, and I made myself speak of it, a little. It was very difficult, but I knew you would be pleased._
> 
> _Meleth nîn, I want to thank you for your gift of the book. I am so glad you thought of this, Bard. I want to finish the book in time send to Rivendell in the spring, and ask Elrond to give it to him. If it helps him, I will be glad._
> 
> _Bain has been meticulous about his studies, so he will not miss a day with Daeron. Sigrid spends three hours a day in the Healing Halls, and she enjoys it. Tilda spends her afternoons with Galion, in the library, and also sits with him in his study, drawing pictures, I have made sure to send some of her pictures in the box._
> 
> _I have also included some sketches I made of the children, so you could keep them with you. As you can see from the one sketch of them sitting in my chambers, I have also gifted them with a pet. I shall let the children tell you more. She has been a good distraction from missing their Da, and treats the children well. Just as Thangon needed a new home and a new life, so did Esta and several others._
> 
> _One of the Elves from my barns has helped Hilda place several of the dogs with your families. It makes for a merrier atmosphere, here in the Palace to see the children at play._
> 
> _The young mother, Rhian, has been doing well. She is still afraid of being around crowds, and a lot of noise, so I have arranged for her to be installed in some empty rooms near Hilda. Elenaril has arranged for an Elleth to stay with her and the child, so she won’t be alone, and to gently encourage her to do more and more._
> 
> _I am sorry to tell you that Lady Hilda has had some difficulty with two of the women from Dale. Hilda had taken care of it already, but these women, pulled Sigrid and Bain aside, demanding that they reverse Hilda’s orders._
> 
> _We took care of the matter in the Throne Room, I promise you, Meleth nîn, I was my fiercest, and most intimidating self._
> 
> _These are older ladies, and citizens of yours, so I did them no physical harm, but I “put the fear of Morgoth into them,” as Hilda instructed me to. They seemed contrite, and promised they would follow Hilda’s orders and do what is asked of them._
> 
> _I must go, Meleth nîn, although I do not want to. I have another meeting scheduled in an hour and I must prepare. I pray to the Valar to make the time pass quickly, for when I turn over in the night, and reach for you, it pains me that you are not there._
> 
> _I love you, Bard. Always._
> 
> _Thranduil_

 

* * *

 

 **To** **Bard** **from** **Sigrid** :

> _Dear Da,_
> 
> _Ae, mae g'ovannen, Da. Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn._
> 
> _That means, “Hello, well met, Da. A star shines on the hour of our meaning.”_
> 
> _See, we’re learning Sindarin!_
> 
> _First of all, we are fine. Ada, Hilda, and Galion are taking good care of us, and we are looking after them, too._
> 
> _Ada told us about the animals he sent to you, and I like Thangon already! Did he tell you he gave us a dog too? Her name is Esta, and she’s black and white, and was sad about losing her master, too. She seems happier, and I know Bain and Tilda are. While we’re at school, Esta keeps Ada company in his study._  
>  _Daeron took us to the barracks one afternoon, and showed us Thangon’s sister. She’s so big! Tilda was scared of her, until Daeron sat down and had her sit in his lap, so she could come over. It took a while, but Tilda started petting her. He explained how Thangon will always protect you and keep you safe. Now I know why Ada sent him to you, and I’m glad he did._
> 
> _We always eat supper with Ada and Auntie Hil, when she can, and we stay in his chambers until it’s time to go to bed. He is sad without you, but we’re making sure he keeps his spirits up._
> 
> _In fact, the other night, Tilda crawled in his lap and asked him if she could call him Ada, too! I wish you could have seen the smile on his face. He hugged her so tight she squeaked, then Esta jumped on the couch and licked her face, thinking she was crying. It was so cute!_
> 
> _Daeron is back to work now, but he stops in to see Rhian and Darrin as often as he can. I don’t think he can get over having a child named after him. Speaking of Daeron, he’s been guarding us here just like in Dale, which seemed kind of silly to me, at first. I mean, we’re in Ada’s Palace, right?_
> 
> _Well, let me tell you, I’m glad he guards us, now! Don’t worry, because I know you will, but there were two really mean ladies from Dale, and when they grabbed Bain and me when we were just coming out of the Dining Hall after school, Daeron saw them and ran across the Dining Hall to us, and they wouldn’t stop screaming at us, until he actually started drawing his sword! I’m positive Auntie Hil and Ada will tell you all about it, so I won’t bother._
> 
> _I want to finish this letter before the supply caravan leaves, so I’ll go now. I’ll write again soon._
> 
> _Love always,_
> 
> _Sigrid_

 

* * *

 

**To Feren from Glélindë:**

> _Gi suilon, Meleth nîn,_
> 
> _Alis and Dafina have spent several overnight visits to our home, and Gruffudd and I like each other very much. So Lady Hilda came by yesterday and gave me the news: We are officially parents!_
> 
> _They moved in yesterday, and it has been wonderful. Our home is full of activity, toys and giggles. Some crying, yes, because we all miss you, but they are doing so much better._
> 
> _Gruffudd will stay in our third bedroom, and he helps look after the girls when I have to go to the Guild. For the most part, I try to do my work at home, so I can be with them._
> 
> _Lady Hilda has helped a great deal. She and Bronwyn have been speaking to our group, those who wish to adopt, to educate us about children of Men. She is very thorough, and I am glad of it, Meleth nîn. I want to do everything right for them. Alis is wonderful, and she wants me to tell you she misses you. She and Dafina have drawn you several pictures, which I have enclosed._
> 
> _There is one of you on your horse, the one with the “D” on it. I tell you this because Dafina was a bit upset that I did not know what she had drawn. So be sure and let her know that you recognized it right away!_
> 
> _I love you, and I am always proud of you, and our daughters are too. I am so happy._
> 
> _Gi melin, Feren._
> 
> _Glélindë_

* * *

 

**To Bard from Bain:**

> _Da!_
> 
> _You’ll never guess what! I started using my bow, yesterday! It was great! There is a target area set up and Daeron started teaching me about stance and breathing. I had to go slow, and he made me stop after a while, saying my arms would get hurt if I started out doing too much. I argued with him, but he wouldn’t budge. Said I would know what he’s talking about today._
> 
> _Boy was he right! My arms feel so sore! I thought all the sword work would make them strong, but I was hurting in places I didn’t even know existed!_
> 
> _Did they tell you we have a dog, too? She sleeps with me at night, which made Tilda kind of jealous, until Thranduil pointed out she has Charlotte and that stuffed Elk. Besides, Esta does that herself. I wake up, and there she is!_
> 
> _Daeron took me and the girls to the barracks, and he showed us a dog like the one you have. Even with her tail wagging, she looked mean. Tilda was scared of her, but I wasn’t. Sigrid keeps teasing me, because she and Tilda ended up petting her and letting the dog lick their faces, but I wouldn’t. Don’t believe them when they tell you I was scared, okay?_
> 
> _It’s time for dinner here, and I’m really hungry, so I got to go._
> 
> _Love you, Da, and don’t worry. I’m taking care of the girls._
> 
> _Your son,_
> 
> _Bain_
> 
> _P.S. Oh! I almost forgot! Rhys’s grandma and great-aunt grabbed me and Sigrid in the hall last week and started to say some really ugly things. I yelled at her to get her hands off Sigrid, but Sigrid yelled at her louder to take her hands off me! You aren’t gonna believe what they said! Rhys’s grandma said she’d slap us silly if we thought we could speak to them like that! She said we deserved it for being mouthy brats._
> 
> _Rhys says she’s mean, and always says bad things about people. Me and Sigrid went straight to Auntie Hil’s rooms and told her about it. Boy, was she MAD!_  
>  _Next thing I know, we’re all in the Throne Room. Thranduil was sitting way up there on his chair, and had his big crown on. He made Rhys’s auntie and grandma stand on this one spot, so they had to pull their heads back to look up at him. And he yelled at them, really loud. Boy was it scary! He told them never to lay a finger on his children again!_
> 
> _I really like Thranduil, Da. He’s really nice, and he’s funny. It was nice to know that he wants to protect us, just like you do._
> 
> _P.P.S. I’ve really got to go and eat. Galion just came into the library and said we’re having cake for dessert! Love you, Da._
> 
> _Bain_

* * *

 

**To Percy from Hilda:**

> _Dear Husband,_
> 
> _Things are busy here in Thranduil’s Kingdom. We’ve never been apart before; do you realize that? I feel like I’m missing an arm and a leg, I miss you that much. No sense dwelling on things that can’t be helped. Best to just carry on, yeah?_
> 
> _The kids are good. It’s good for Thranduil to have them to himself, I think. He loves them, and this is a chance for the little ones to really get to know him. Sigrid and Tilda already call him Ada, which means “Da” in Elvish. Bain doesn’t, but you know how boys are. What’s good, is that it doesn’t bother the Elf one bit. He lets Bain do what he feels comfortable with, which I like. A smart one, he is. So is Galion!_
> 
> _This Palace couldn’t run without him, and Thranduil knows it. He and Thranduil work so well together, and Galion has such affection for him. All the kids love him, and Tilda’s got him wrapped around her pinky, just as she does her Ada’s._
> 
> _I’ve a picture Thranduil drew of me, to send to you. I didn’t even know he’d done it, to be sure, and I was plenty surprised. But I think you’ll like it. Maybe I’ll ask him to draw you, so I have something to look at._
> 
> _If Feren doesn’t already know, please tell him that those two little girls and their grandfather have moved in with his wife permanently. They’ll be a good family._  
>  _That Elf’s a good sort, and you’ll be glad to know his wife is a credit to him._
> 
> _In fact, just about all of the orphans have possible homes. All but five, and they’re all from one family, and I won’t split them up. I’m not too worried about them. The oldest of the five is a year older than Sigrid, and she wants to look after them herself. She’s way too young for something like that, but we have an Elf couple talking to her. We’ll see how it goes._
> 
> _Sometimes the days go quickly, and sometimes, they drag. This is a beautiful, wonderful place, but it is not home, because you’re not with me._
> 
> _Love to you,_
> 
> _Your Hilda_

* * *

 

**To Bard from Tilda:**

> _Deer Da,_
> 
> _I am fine. How are you? Ada got us a dog, too. She is prety. I petted a big, big dog. She was nise. And I got to hold the babby. He is cute. Ada took me to see the elks and lets me pet them wen I want. They are nise. dont be mad at Ada. They dont bite!_
> 
> _Galienon has me pratise my letters a lot. He is nise._
> 
> _Heer are some pixturs I made for yoo. Of the elks that ada and me pet. And won of the big dog. Heer is won of me and Sigrid and Bain, so yoo remember us._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Tilda your dawter_

 

***************

 

**To Bard from Hilda:**

> _To Bard, King of Dale,_
> 
> _This is my official report, Sire. All of the orphans have found homes, I think, even that family of five, finally. It’s still early but it looks good. I’ll still be watching all the families closely, while we’re here to make sure the children are happy, and that the parents are treating them right._
> 
> _The school for both the children and the adults is going well. All seem eager to be useful and learn what they can. Well, almost all, but I’ll tell you about that later on._
> 
> _Rhian is moving into the rooms next to mine today. The Elf that’s staying with her is an assistant of Elénaril’s so she’s got someone with her who knows how to handle her, and is making sure the poor girl gets enough rest._
> 
> _We’ve had a pair of nasty sisters to deal with, and they were doing their best to make themselves and everyone else miserable. I finally had to take them into my study and try to get to the bottom of it._
> 
> _Do you remember Rhys, Bain’s friend? I think Alun is his father. Anyway, the boy has been staying here with Alun’s mother and his aunt, and those two are just poison!_
> 
> _They’re from rich section of Laketown and were used to being waited on hand and foot. Imagine their shock and dismay when we got here and their maids moved out! The two girls had started to work with the Weaver’s Guild and were taking classes to read and write, and I’m all for it!_
> 
> _Those two ladies demanded that put I stop to it and make those poor girls go back. Which, of course I wouldn’t._
> 
> _Then, would you believe those two bitches tried to corner Bain and Sigrid? They manhandled them, Bard? Our girl was hopping mad, let me tell you. She was born a Princess, that one. Anyway, I marched right over to Thranduil’s office and told him I needed him to scare the bejeepers out of both of them, from up on that great bloody throne of his._
> 
> _You would have laughed your britches off, Bard. He made sure to really boom his voice around, and was the picture of indignation._
> 
> _Then one of them had the nerve to point out to the Elvenking that those children weren’t his, he stopped acting and got mad for real!_
> 
> _If you ever had doubts about his devotion to those kids, Bard, you won’t have them now, and neither do Bain and Sigrid! He stood up from his throne and walked down those steps and got right in their faces. Those two bitches just about peed themselves._
> 
> _He told them they were arrogant and felt entitled for no reason, and that does not fly in his Kingdom, where everyone has a job and everyone contributes. Then he said they needed to understand and appreciate everything those maids had done for these ladies, and he was going to make sure they learn. They’re pulling lots of extra shifts in the kitchens, washing dishes and mopping the floors, and every single shit job I can think of._
> 
> _They’re not happy, but I don’t care._
> 
> _This isn’t sounding like an official report to my King, does it? No matter, you’re still our Bard. I am so proud of you, and I know Percy is too._
> 
> _Keep a good watch on my Percy, and take care of everyone in Dale, just as I’m taking care of things, here._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Hilda_

 

***************

 

**To Bard from Galion:**

> _Greetings, Lord Bard:_
> 
> _I am sure are aware of the altercation between Lord Thranduil, Lady Hilda, and two of the ladies of your Realm, so I shall not mention it further, except to say the situation has been dealt with efficiently. Since most of the Orphans have been placed in good homes, Lady Bronwyn’s duties have greatly decreased, so Lord Thranduil has asked her to serve as Aide to Lady Hilda._
> 
> _She has been tired from the frenetic activity since Laketown was destroyed, right up until the last week or so, since we’ve settled in. The added strain of the events in the throne room caused a bit of a collapse while she was in the King’s chambers last evening._
> 
> _My King himself escorted her to be examined by Elénaril, who prescribed rest in the afternoons for several weeks, but she believes Lady Hilda will be fine. Daeron, who, as you know, has training and experience with the race of Men concurs._
> 
> _I wished to convey this second opinion, as I know that you and Lord Percy would be alarmed, to hear of this. They both agree that her heart is strong, it is just that she is unwilling to slow down when she is fatigued, so she must be forced to._
> 
> _Lady Hilda tried to make me promise not to tell you and Lord Percy, but, of course, I refused. She was angry at me, but she feels a bit better after two days of afternoon rest and her good humor has returned._
> 
> _Please be sure to send me a list of supplies and medicines you might need. With the snows that have come, it may be a bit before we can get them to you, but we shall do our best._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Galion, Chief Aide and Steward of the Woodland Realm_

***************

 

 **From Ina and her sister Iola, to King Bard:**  

> _To the King of Dale,_
> 
> _My sister Iola and I have several complaints to make about this Elf Palace. Our quarters are too small and certainly not what we are used to. The Elves changed our rooms, to a quieter section, but they are still the same size, and we have to share a privy! When I explained that to Hilda, she had the nerve to tell me we had to live with it!_
> 
> _Then, our maids, Lynne and Mona up and quit, getting all kinds of ideas above their station, thinking they can just go off on their own. When I demanded Hilda make them return, she refused! She loves to forget that she was no better than a fishwife, not even half a year ago!_
> 
> _We had every right to demand satisfaction from the Princess Sigrid and Prince Bain. They should fix this, but instead they became disrespectful._
> 
> _If they were my children, they would have gotten slapped, and I told her so, and I don’t mind telling you, either._
> 
> _That Elf King has no right to boss Iona and me around. I demand an apology from him for yelling at us! He had the nerve to tell me that those children are “his” and I had no right to lay hands on them. I have every right! That Elf does not belong to Dale, and I do, and so do your children, even if you do spoil them._
> 
> _Rhys is away from his father, thank the Valar, otherwise he would be a spoiled brat, too. We’re taking the winter to make sure he is as disciplined as we were, which did us a world of good, I can tell you that! I don’t hesitate to cuff him about the ears, to make sure he behaves. No matter what my son Alun says, that boy is going to be raised right, just like my father did me._
> 
> _I demand the return of our servants immediately! I will no longer work with Hilda, and if she thinks I’m going to do dishes or mop anything, she’s got another thing coming, I don’t care what that Elf King of yours says._
> 
> _As far as Iona and I are concerned, you can keep him, and that unnatural marriage of yours. It’s wrong, do you hear me? And the Valar will punish you for that, mark my words._
> 
> _Don’t think we’ve forgotten what side of town you came from! If the Master were still alive, Laketown would have never been destroyed, and – and you’d still be living in the seedy part of Dale._
> 
> _Looking forward immediate action,_
> 
> _Ina and Iona_
> 
> _Respected citizens of Laketown and Dale._

***************

 

**To Percy, from Sigrid, Bain and Tilda:**

> _Hi Uncle Percy!_
> 
> _We thought we would surprise you and send you a letter! We miss you and hope you and Da are looking after each other, I know Auntie Hil misses you a lot too._
> 
> _I know Auntie Hil won’t tell you, but she went to see the Healer. Ada told her to go, and she kept putting it off, until he made her take his arm, and took her himself – no arguments!_
> 
> _She’s been working too hard, they said, and she was only allowed half-days for the next two weeks. Bronwyn helps her now, in the afternoons, after she’s done working in the school. Either way, the work has slowed down, because we are all settled in for the next four months or so._
> 
> _The Elves are so nice here! But we miss you and Da so much._
> 
> _Love, Sigrid_

 

* * * 

 

 

 

> _Uncle Percy!_
> 
> _It’s Bain, here, and I’m great! I miss you and Da, but I’m learning a lot here._
> 
> _I am learning this game from the Elves, with a ball that you kick around. It’s fun. Me and Rhys play it a lot!_
> 
> _I also practice with Daeron every day. He says when the time is right, he wants to teach Auntie Hil, Sigrid and even Tilda some things that will help them defend themselves. He said Auntie Hil was very brave in the Battle, and she was a good fighter._
> 
> _Love, Bain_

 

* * * 

 

 

 

> _Deer unkle Percy,_
> 
> _I hope yoo are good. I am good. We have a dog. Ada-that’s Thrandool tells storees. Heer are some pixtures I drew. Galion lets me set at his dext and draw. I pretend that I am his ade. I llove him. He is nise. I love Ada. I love Da, too. but dont be sad. I love my unklke Percy best!_
> 
> _I hope you like the pixturs._
> 
> _Love Little Been – (realy Tilda)_

 

***************

 

 **To Tauriel from Sigrid, Bain and Tilda:**  

> _Hi, Tauriel!_
> 
> _Ada says he sent you a cat! Do you like it? He told us about the cats you had when you were little. Is Da’s dog as big as everybody says he is? We’ve got a dog, too! Her name is Esta. I hope you’re getting a chance to visit the Dwarves. We miss you terribly. Ada misses you the most._
> 
> _We love your rooms! Ada has moved your big bed into Hilda’s rooms so she can sleep on it, then he put two smaller beds in there for Tilda and me. He even has another bed in the spare room. I would have taken that one, but I think Tilda feels better if I’m there. She woke up crying from a bad dream, and Ada was right there to pick her up and take her to his rooms, so you know she is being taken care of, don’t worry._
> 
> _I am practicing my Sindarin, and I work in Healing Halls a couple of hours a day, but schoolwork comes first. I can’t wait to see you again! I’ve never had a big sister, and I miss you!_
> 
> _Love, Sigrid_

 

* * * 

> _Tauriel!_
> 
> _Daeron has been practicing with me a lot, and don’t worry, I’m doing my schoolwork, too. In fact, Galion tells me I’m a better speller than Sigrid! How about that? I’ve even started using my bow. I told Da all about it, so ask him, will you?_
> 
> _I know Da is gonna get real mad when he hears about Rhys’s grandma and his aunt. So please make sure to tell him Thranduil and Hilda took care of it._  
>  _I have a problem, and I need your advice, because I can’t break a promise I made, and I don’t know what to do._
> 
> _After Thranduil yelled at Rhys’s grandma and aunt, he came to school with a bruise on his arm, and a mark on his face._
> 
> _He says he fell, but I don’t think it’s true. I asked him if anyone was hurting him, and he looked really strange, and he didn’t say anything, except that he really misses his Da._
> 
> _I asked him if he wanted Ada or even Da to look into it, and he got real upset and made me promise not to say anything. I’m not breaking my promise, because he didn’t say not to tell you._
> 
> _I just remember what Rhian went through, and I hope it isn’t like that. Rhys is a year younger than me, and something doesn’t feel right._
> 
> _He’s not allowed to come and see us in our rooms, and his grandma and auntie won’t let him bring friends to his place. I have never broken a promise, ever, so I don’t know what to do._
> 
> _Please tell me what you think, okay?_
> 
> _Love, Bain_

 

* * * 

> _Deer Tarriel,_
> 
> _How are yoo? I am good. I rite my letters a lot! Are yoo looking after Da and unkle Percy? I hope so. I kno yoo like cats, so I drew yoo a pixture of one. I draw bettr than I rite. I am been a good gurl, just like yoo told me too. I like yoor room._
> 
> _Love, little sisster Tilda_

 

***************

 

**To Alun from Rhys:**

> _Dear Dad,_
> 
> _I miss you very much. A lot. I wish I could go back to Dale and stay with you, like we did in our house in Laketown, just the two of us. Or when we were in the camp in Dale._
> 
> _School is good. Practice is good. I’m almost as good as Bain at archery. His guard, Daeron is nice, and I like spending time with them. Bain has even asked me to come and visit them in their rooms, but Grandmother won’t allow it. She doesn’t like Bain or any of his family. Please don’t tell her that I spend time with Bain. He is my best friend!_
> 
> _And Grandma and Aunt Iona was really mean to him and his sister, and even the Elf King had to yell at them. They got really mad then._
> 
> _I don’t like it here. I know I have to be, but I just wish it was you and me again._
> 
> _I miss you. Please write soon._
> 
> _Your son,_
> 
> _Rhys_

 

***************

 

**To Tauriel from Thranduil:**

> _Gi suilon, Tauriel,_
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you well, Gwinïg._
> 
> _When I first saw the grey tabby I sent you, it reminded me of when you were small. She looks just like the cat from the kitchens, when you went missing and hid in the cupboards to steal some tarts. I like to think that the cat you now possess is a descendant of the one that watched over you as a little girl._
> 
> _I’ll never forget that day…_
> 
> _I was in a Council Meeting, when Legolas ran in and told us you were gone, and no one could find you. I was so worried that you might have fallen from one of the walkways! Galion and your caretaker were near tears, because the woman said she only turned her back for a moment to put some of your clothes in the cupboards, and you were gone._
> 
> _I cannot tell you how frightened I was, how worried we all were!  I realized then how important you are to me, and I couldn't bear even the thought of losing you.  We searched for hours, throughout the Palace.  I even had the Guard search outside for any trace of you, praying earnestly that you had not been taken._
> 
> _Finally, the cook came running, and she put her fingers to her lips and told us to follow her, and she showed us where you had been hiding, all this time._
> 
> _There you were, in your little blue dress, fast asleep, and the grey tabby purring loudly, keeping watch over you while she washed her face. You had berry stains and pastry crumbs all over your face and your dress, and your hands were still holding a half-eaten one.  Galion nearly collapsed with relief, and so did I!  Everyone was afraid I would be angry with you, but I was too relieved that you were safe._
> 
> _I don’t know if I ever told you, but it was I who carried you back to my chambers. I canceled all my appointments for the rest of day, because I couldn’t let you out of my sight. You were in my lap the entire time you were sleeping. I didn’t even clean your face or hands, for fear of waking you up, and I wanted to hold you as long as I could._
> 
> _I like to think the cat I sent you is descended from the one who looked after you when you were so small, and that this one will take care of you just as much.  It may be a foolish notion, but it comforts me, as I stand in the Royal Wing, missing the sound of your voice._
> 
> _Please look after yourself, Gwinïg, and know that I think of you._
> 
> _Mil, Ada_

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Gi suilon, Meleth nîn_ \- Greetings, my love,  
_Tirhûtaw_ – Collie (Lit. “Wool Guard Dog”)  
_Gi suilon, Tauriel_ – Dear Tauriel  
_Gwinïg Naurfîn_ – Red-haired little fingers (When Tauriel was small, she loved to get into everything.)  
_Mîl, Ada_ – Love, Ada


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard gets some very disturbing news, and asks his Elvenking for help. 
> 
> It was a very trying day, but Thranduil, the children, and canine nursemaid, Esta, do their best. Bain learns an important lesson about promises and secrets, and keeping his friends safe.

 

 

 **City of Dale,** **15th** **of** **January** , **2942** , **T**. **A**. 

Bard put down his letters with a worried look. He and Percy were sitting at the table in his study, going over the paperwork, and sorting the box of letters that just arrived. Bard preferred to wait to read the ones from Thranduil and the children until after he went to bed, but when he opened the one from Galion, he was given an unpleasant surprise.

“What?” Percy looked over at him.

“I just read from Galion, that your wife had to go to the Healers because she’s working too hard. Did she tell you that? It says here she had ‘a bit of a collapse!,' and we’re not supposed to worry!”

“Give me that! I haven’t read my letter, yet. I was going to wait until after dinner.” Percy snatch the paper from him, and read. As his lips moved silently, his face became more alarmed.

The Steward looked concerned. “Well, if the two of them said she’s not in any danger, that's a relief, but I’ll tell you, for months, she’s been going at full speed from the minute she gets up in the morning, till she hits the bed. And even then, she’d toss and turn and worry.”

“I feel terrible, Pers.  She's been working hard, and I know a lot of people depend on her, but I never wanted her to risk her health!”

Percy directed a look at Bard. “Don’t. She would’ve worked just as hard, even if you hadn’t put her in charge.  We've all been pushing ourselves, but it couldn't be helped. There's just too much to do, and not enough time to do it in.  It just pains me to hear about this, with me so far away.”

“I’ll tell Tilda to make sure she naps with her Aunti Hil.  She won’t argue with the Little Bean.”

“Well, she’ll try, but Tilda will win. Especially if everyone else backs her up.” He smiled, and they got back to business.

Then Bard read the letter from Hilda, his smile disappearing. “What the…”

Percy looked up again, “What now?”

“Here, read this! Where is that other letter that came…” Bard pawed around at the stacks and piles, digging through them, until he grabbed a rather thick, sealed envelope. “Here it is.” He quickly broke the seal, of the letter from Ina and Iola. He opened it, with his brow furrowed with worry.

If Bard was angry before he read this, he was positively purple with rage when he was done, and he slammed his fist down on the table. “Oh, _shit!”_

Without bothering to ask, Percy grabbed the letter from him to see for himself.  Normally, Percy was unflappable, and known for his calm, in the face of chaos, but today, the man looked upset, and angrier than Bard had ever seen him.

“What do you want to do?” The Aide’s voice was dangerously quiet.

“Go find Alun and bring him here; he needs to see this. This is his son, and he should have a say in what we decide. If you see Feren, ask if he can come, too.”

Percy gave him an approving nod, and left to find the men.

Tauriel came, and knocked on the open door. “Bard?”

“What is it?”

“I came off duty an hour ago, and I was just reading my letters. There is one from Bain I think you need to see.”

Bard motioned for her to come in, and she handed Bain’s letter to him.  He shook his head slowly, and ran his hand down his face. “This is… _Bloody fuck!_   Tauriel, I need you to stay here for this meeting, if you would.  Hang on to this for now, but I’d like to keep this for our records, when we’re done.”  He handed it back to her. “Percy’s on his way back with Alun and hopefully Feren, too.”

After a few minutes, Alun and Percy appeared, immediately followed by Feren.

The man looked worried. “Is there something wrong, My Lord?” Alun asked, once they were seated.

“I’m afraid there is, Alun. Have you gotten letters from the Woodland Realm?”

Percy said, “He has one, but I  haven’t had a chance to give it to him, yet; he’s been gone since early morning, working at a building site.”

Alun became very pale. “Oh, no… Is Rhys…”

Bard was quick to reassure him. “No, no, Alun. Nothing like that. Rhys isn’t seriously hurt, but I think you might want to read your son’s letter, before we continue.” Percy handed the man the sealed note. “Would you like to go and read it in private?”

“No, thank you, My Lord. I would much prefer it if you just tell me what’s going on.  Please; I need to know, now.”

And so, Bard read aloud the portions of his letters regarding the situation with the boy, Percy opened his letter from his wife, and read his version, and finally, Tauriel shared Bain’s words, about Rhys’s bruises. When they were finished, Alun went from pale to red from fury.

“That bitch! Those _fucking_ _bitches_ hurt my boy!” Then he looked contrite. “Begging your pardon, My Lord, My Lady.” He nodded to Tauriel. Alun rubbed his forehead and tried to control himself. “I didn’t want to let them take him, but I had no one else to look after him!” His eyes began to water. “I had no one, except them, and they wheedled at me and promised me he would be all right.” He blew out a breath. “I should have known better. I should have… My wife died when Rhys was ten, and he had to go with someone!” The man was shaking. “I never should’ve... Oh, Valar… I… I’m sorry, Lord Bard, but that boy is all I have, and I made such a mistake…” His voice broke. “I should have known… Oh, gods…”

Bard tried to comfort him, even though he knew it wouldn’t help much. “Alun, you did the best you could do with what you knew. Sometimes, it’s a lousy choice, but it’s all you can do.”

“I knew how she was with me, but like an idiot, I told myself she’d never hurt my son. My aunt was even worse, but I still told myself… I don’t know what would even make me believe she'd be good to him. She’s hardly seen Rhys since he was born, My Lord. They would always pester me, but I wouldn’t allow it. Valar, how could I be so _stupid?”_ Alun put his head in his hands.

Bard put his hand on Alun’s shoulder. “Alun, I’m sorry, to be the bearer of news like this, and I don’t mean to make you feel worse, but I need to know something. Can I ask why you didn’t think you come to me before they left? We would’ve gladly helped you make other arrangements.”

“I should have, and no mistake.” Alun moaned. “You’re a new King, My Lord, and there’s so much to be done, and I didn’t know if you’d have time for this, or even if you’d want to help me.

"Begging your pardon, but I’m still used to the way the Master was; we all are. After so many years of being ignored, it’s hard to remember, sometimes, that anyone really cares. I’m sorry if that angers you, and I should have known better. Forgive me.”

Bard sat back, surprised.

Then again, should he be surprised?

These people had suffered years of neglect and apathy from their leader. Bard had been popular in Laketown, but after suffering so much abuse from the Master, it made sense they wouldn’t hand over their trust so quickly.  Bard was the same way.  Like them, Bard paid attention to action and results, not words.  He’d only been their King for a few months, so how could they know all wanted to accomplish for them?

“I understand, Alun, and I thank you for your honesty. I’m not angry at all. This is something I hadn’t thought about, but you’re right to point this out.  The important thing right now, is to help your son, and that’s what I’m going to do.  He’s only been in this situation for a couple of weeks, and we’ll get him out of there and make it right for your boy, now.  That counts for a lot.”

Alun didn’t look like he felt better, but he shook his head.

Bard continued his reassurances. “We’re going to make sure your boy is safe there, don’t worry. Having said that, your mother and your aunt have committed some serious offenses against your son, and my children, and they’re going to face consequences. There’ll be no avoiding that, and I want to warn you.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve had nothing to do with those women since I left home. It was a misery, growing up in that house! My aunt beat me more times that I care to remember, and my mother did nothing to stop her.  Their tongues are like poison, and if you want my opinion, I say, get them away from everyone! How soon can my boy be taken away from them?”

“I guarantee you, the minute King Thranduil receives my letter, he’ll be out of their hands. In the meantime, as you can see in these letters, enough of a stink has been raised, that our folks will be keeping a close eye on them, and your son. And it won’t just be the ones from Dale, I promise you. I know my husband, Alun. Your mother and your aunt have caught King Thranduil's attention, and he’ll be having them watched closely; they won't even know it. Those two won’t say ‘boo’ without him knowing about it, and what Thranduil doesn’t do, Hilda will.”

Percy added, “That’s true, Alun, I guarantee it.”

Alun looked around the table at everyone, and could easily see the concern. “What are we going to do?”

Bard put his hand in the man’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Do you trust me?”

The man regarded his King. “Yes. Yes, I do. Tell me what you need from me and you’ll have it.”

“Good! I’ll need something written from you, giving King Thranduil permission to take the boy from your mother and aunt, and you will need to name a legal guardian. Everyone at this table will witness it, and I’ll sign it into law, so there will be no dispute. There are some other things we'll need to send with your document that will keep Rhys and everyone else affected by this safe, until the ladies can be brought back here in the spring.” Bard turned to Feren, and said to the Commander. “It will take us the rest of the day to write out everything we’ll need, and make several copies of it, so I want a messenger ready to leave, first thing tomorrow morning.”

“As you wish, My Lord.”

Bard tried to reassure the father. “We’ll get them there tomorrow, I promise, and by the time the midday meal is served, he’ll be safe. How’s your handwriting?”

“Excellent, My Lord. It was one of the reasons the Master hired me. I did his accounts and wrote his proclamations,” Alun looked sheepish, “even if I didn’t agree with them.”

“Wonderful! Once we finalize these documents, we’ll need several copies of everything, if you would. I’ll rely on your expertise to make the wording ironclad. Is that something you can do?”

“I’ll do my best, My Lord.” Then Alun looked at Bard anxiously. “How soon can I see my son?”

Bard understood, perfectly, how Alun felt. “We’ll make sure it’s soon. I can’t let you go with the messengers, tomorrow, because we’ll need them to rush to the Palace as fast as possible. Elves on horses are much quicker than we are. Percy, when is Alun’s visit scheduled?”

Percy got up and went to his room, and came back with a paper. Not till next month.”

Alun looked deflated.

Bard asked, “Who’s on the list for the first trip?”

“I see a couple, who might switch. I’m sure if they understood the circumstances….”

Alun felt uncomfortable. “Begging your pardon, Sire, I’d rather not have everyone know about this.”

“I agree.” Bard nodded.

“Wait.” Percy said. “Old Ben is listed, so let’s send for him, so we can discuss this in confidence.”

Feren stood up. “I am afraid I need to go back to my duties, but I shall send someone to retrieve Master Ben, and tell him you need him, My Lord.”

Bard nodded. “Thank you, Commander. I'll need you to come back later to witness these documents, so I'll need to send for you, again." Feren nodded in consent, and left.

Alun was still looking pale, so Bard tried to reassure him. “Try not to worry, Thranduil’s a very powerful Elf and your son will be in the best of hands. We’ll stick together and get you and Rhys through this.”

Bard turned to Tauriel. “Would you send someone for tea and a meal? The three of us are going to be in here the rest of the day. And send a message to the crew Alun was working on, that he won’t be back until tomorrow, all right?”

Tauriel nodded, then put her hand reassuringly on Alun’s shoulder. “Lord Bard is right about King Thranduil. He will look after your son as his very own. Please do not worry.”

 

***************

 

 **The** **Woodland** **Realm** , **16th** **of** **January** , **2942** , **T**. **A.**  

Thranduil heard the voices of the children in the Hall, and put his pen back into its holder, and blotted the ink on his signature. Esta got up from her bed and wagged her tail, ready to meet them, and share the midday meal. They walked across the hall to the children’s apartment. “Hello, children! How was school, today?”

Tilda was smiling. “I learned a new song, and we learned the story of how the castle in Dale was built, and we worked on our numbers and pluses and minuses and I know how to say hello in Sindarin!”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. “That is quite a lot for one morning. How do you say ‘hello’ in Sindarin?”

“You say _‘Mae g'ovannen,’_ and that means ‘Well met,’ but it really means ‘hello!’”

“Very good, _Tithen Pen._ And do you know how to say goodbye?”

The little girl nodded. “You say, _‘Cuio vae.’_ But that doesn’t exactly say ‘goodbye, though. What it really means is, ‘farewell,’ which is supposed to be the same thing.”

Sigrid came out of their room. “Good, Tilda!”

“It is very good, and so is your pronunciation.” The Elvenking grinned down at her. “Can you spell it, yet?” he teased.

“No…”  Then Tilda made a face. _"Ada,_ you’re being silly!” She rolled her eyes and went to go get Charlotte.

“Alas, I have been accused of worse things. Where is Bain? Is he here, yet?”

“He stayed behind to talk to Rhys.” Sigrid said, as she went to wash up for lunch.

Thranduil would have thought nothing of it, except for the concerned look on her face. He tousled Tilda’s hair, as she came out of her room, “Could you please help Galion with our luncheon? Sigrid will be along to help you in a minute or two.”

The little girl scampered off, and he turned back to the teenaged girl. “Is something wrong with Bain?”

Sigrid shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s worried about something, but he won’t talk about it.”

“Perhaps he misses your Da.”

“Could be,” she shrugged. And they went into the other chambers for lunch. 

Just as the children were dispersing for their afternoon activities, a messenger arrived, and saluted. “ _Mae de 'ovannen, Aran nîn._ These are urgent messages from Dale.”

_“De athae.”_

Thranduil went into his study, followed by the Elven Messenger, who set the box on his desk, saluted and left.

He unlocked the box and saw a packet of scrolls, accompanied by two sealed letters. One was addressed to Rhys, Bain’s friend, and the other was from his husband, but it was formally addressed to “Thranduil, Son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm.” His brow furrowed with concern. Bard wouldn't use a messenger, unless something was terribly wrong...

He heard some noise in the adjoining room, as he saw Galion and Tilda enter ready for their afternoon, with Esta. The Elvenking smiled at the little girl, as she sat in her chair, ready to work on her letters, chatting to Galion about her day, and what kind of book she would like from the library.

Thranduil broke the seal of Bard’s letter, and began to read: 

 

> _City of Dale, 15th of January, 2942, T.A._
> 
> _Greetings Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm:_
> 
> _I’m afraid we’ve got an urgent situation, and I need your help. Rhys, son of Alun, is now living with the very same women that you had to call into your Throne Room the other day. I have evidence to suggest that he’s being abused by these two women, and for his own safety, I need you to remove him from their custody immediately!_
> 
> _I am enclosing the original copy of a letter those two women wrote me, and as you can see, there is much reason to be concerned. The minute I received their letter, I called Ina’s son, and Rhys’s father, Alun into my study, with Percy, Tauriel, and Feren present._
> 
> _Alun does not get along with his mother and his aunt, who disowned him when he married his wife. The only reason Rhys is with them, is because Alun had to stay here in Dale. The boy is only twelve years old, so he had to go with the children. I had no idea what these ladies were like, or I would have helped Alun arrange something._
> 
> _During the meeting, Alun showed me a letter from his son. The boy didn’t say outright that he was being beaten, but clearly, he’s unhappy. What is the most troubling, was a letter Bain wrote to Tauriel. Bain had seen some bruises on Rhys, and wanted help him, but the boy made Bain promise he would say nothing to you or me, so he wrote to Tauriel, for advice._
> 
> _I have enclosed several copies of documents; the most important is a Statement of Consent, granting you permission to have the boy removed from his grandmother and aunt, and naming you as Rhys’s temporary guardian._
> 
> _I don’t know where you and Hilda can place him, but I trust that you’ll make sure he’s safe, from here on out._
> 
> _I am also enclosing, as King of Dale an indictment against Ina and Iola, for Rhys’s abuse, which I will not permit, and also their physical and verbal assault against Sigrid and Bain. These indictments set a legal precedence in my Kingdom, and help to guarantee the safety of all our children, present or future._
> 
> _They will face trial when we are reunited in the spring, but until then I have enclosed instructions as to their fate, for the rest of their stay. Please let me know how this works out._
> 
> _With the highest of regards,_
> 
> _Bard, Son of Brand, Heir of Girion, King of Dale_

Thranduil put the letter down, and took a moment to calm himself. Then he called through the adjoining doorway in a voice that revealed nothing of his inner turmoil, “Galion, would you step in here, please?”

Tilda looked up from her scribbling, and he gave her a reassuring smile, as Galion stepped through the adjoining doorway to him.

He motioned Galion closer, and whispered, “There has been a development regarding the two women I reprimanded, and I must get some answers from the woman’s grandson.” He handed the letter to his Aide for him to read.

Galion said nothing, but handed the letter back to Thranduil with his mouth in a thin, angry line.

“Have Bain, and his friend Rhys, brought here, immediately.” Thranduil told him. Then he thought of something. “Rhys does not know me very well, but he and Bain like their teacher, Mistress Bronwyn, and would feel more comfortable if she were there. Take her aside, and give her a brief explanation, then ask her to come as well.”

Galion nodded, “Yes, My Lord. Might I suggest that, perhaps they would be more at ease in your chambers? You might have a better result.”

“An excellent thought. That is what we will do.”

“I’ll see it done immediately, My Lord.” The Aide went back to his own desk and said to Tilda, “I have been told that Lady Hilda is tired today, so we need your help to make sure she rests; can you help us with that?” Galion bent down to scribble a quick note of explanation for Hilda, folded it up, and held out his hand to the little girl.

She nodded, then got up and said, “Bye, _Ada._ I have to go take care of Auntie Hil.”

Thranduil smiled at her, and said. “That is nice of you, _Tithen Pen._ Make sure to take Charlotte and Daisy, so they can help you.”

Tilda gave him a beautiful, gap-toothed smile, took Galion’s hand, and went out, while Thranduil read through all the documents in the box. Esta started to follow Tilda, but then came back, and sat down beside Thranduil, waiting.

“You are right, Esta. I think I could use your help.”

Several minutes later, he went into his chambers, to see Bain, Rhys, Bronwyn and Galion sitting on his couches. Esta was right behind Thranduil, and went over and put her head on Rhys’s knee. _Good dog,_ he thought. As he approached them, he nodded at Galion, who politely made his excuses and left.

Thranduil sat down in the stuffed chair, facing them. “Thank you for coming. I know you are wondering why I called you here, but do not be alarmed; no one is in any trouble, I assure you.” He smiled.

To Rhys, he said, “I am pleased to finally meet you, Rhys, son of Alun. Bain has spoken highly of you, and your prowess in archery. I am King Thranduil.”

“Am I here, because of what my grandmother did?” he asked timidly. Esta whined, and jumped up on the couch beside him, wagging her tail, and put her head in his lap. The boy looked down and scratched the dog behind the ears.

“In a manner of speaking, Rhys, but please remember that no one is angry at you. I am only concerned with your well-being, and want to make sure you are safe.”

Thranduil saw the boy look nervously at Bain, who was trying not to look guilty.

There was no way to approach the subject, except to ask outright. “Rhys, have your grandmother and your aunt harmed you in any way?”

Using a calm, soothing voice, Bronwyn encouraged the boy. “It’s all right, love. We just want you to be all right.”

The boy stared down at dog, trying hard not to cry.  His lips trembled, and his chest rose up and down, rapidly. He was very still for a minute or two, then he turned to Bain, with a frightened, accusing look. “You promised!” he whispered. “You promised you wouldn’t tell them, and now it’s going to get worse!”

Bain looked stricken, “I didn’t! You asked me not to tell Thranduil or Da, and I didn’t!”

“So, who _did_ you tell? You promised! I thought you were my friend!” The boy was agitated, as his face reddened, and he began to wipe his eyes. Esta pawed at him, and jumped up to lick his face. “I trusted you. I trusted you! And now there isn’t anybody…”

“I –“ Bain was wide-eyed, and clearly upset.

Thranduil interjected, gently. “Please boys, calm down,” he said in soothing tones. “Rhys, I think you should know, _Nîth,_ that your father wants you removed from your grandmother’s custody immediately. No one is going to harm you anymore, or make you feel frightened. I hope that you will tell me the truth, because we must make sure you are well.”

Rhys asked in a small voice, not daring to believe it, “I won’t have to go back?”

“No, you will not.” He assured the boy. “Your father has given me permission to take you away from them, and has placed me as your temporary guardian. He is very, very sorry that you were unhappy, Rhys, and I would like to look after you, while you are here with us. Is that all right with you?” Thranduil took Alun’s letter from his pocket. “Your father sent me this to give to you, right away.”

Rhys sat back, and read the letter:

 

> _Rhys, my son:_
> 
> _I’m so glad you wrote and told me you were so unhappy, and I must ask for your forgiveness.  I’m sorrier than I can ever tell you, for allowing you to go with your grandmother and aunt, please believe me!   I would never knowingly put you in danger, but I should have seen this coming, my boy; I made a terrible, terrible mistake, and I hope you don’t hate me for it.  _
> 
> _I will be coming to the Palace as soon as I can, to see you for myself, and make sure you’re all right.  Old Ben, the City Planner was nice enough to switch places with me on the schedule, so that I might see my boy that much sooner._
> 
> _You don’t have to stay with your grandmother anymore, and the minute the Elf King gets the letters from me and King Bard, King Thranduil will be looking after you himself, so you can be sure that no one will ever hurt you again!_
> 
> _I’m glad Prince Bain is your best friend. He has been a better friend to you than you might think right now.  Don't be angry with him, Rhys; he cares about you very much. No one wants you safe more than I do, and we should be glad King Bard and King Thranduil want what’s best for you, too._
> 
> _We must be brave, and do our best to keep going, so when spring comes, you and I will have a proper home to live in!_
> 
> _Please write me soon and let me know how you are doing. We are all going to make sure you life is better there. I will see you in a couple of weeks, so make a list of all the things you want to show me._
> 
> _I miss you, and I love you very much, my son._
> 
> _Your loving Da_

 

Rhys wiped away a tear, then looked at the Elvenking. “My Da says I don’t have to see them anymore, and he’s going to come visit real soon.”

Bronwyn came over and sat next to him, reached over Esta to put her arm around his shoulders, “That’s wonderful, love! So, things will be better, yeah?”

He nodded, then looked back at Thranduil. Rhys was a personable-looking boy, with intelligent brown eyes and blonde hair. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“You are most welcome,” he said, with an encouraging smile, “I hope you can trust me enough to tell me the truth; can you do that? Can you tell me if they have hurt you in anyway?”

“I don’t want to get anybody in trouble…” Rhys still looked skeptical.

“I promise you, Rhys,” Thranduil told him, “no physical harm will come to either your grandmother or your aunt. But right now, my only concern is you.”

He asked again, very gently. “Can you tell us if you are hurt, so we can make you well, again?”

Bain nudged him. “Show him, Rhys. It’ll be all right.”

The boy slowly rolled up his sleeve, to reveal several bruises on his upper arm; some had yellowed, which indicated they were older.

Calling on all his discipline as a king, Thranduil did not react. He smiled, stood up, and said. “I thank you for trusting me with the truth.  Now, I should like to take you to the Healing Halls, so you can be examined fully, and if you are in any pain, we will take care of it.  Will you come with me, please?”

The boys stood up, and Bain made to follow Rhys, but the blonde boy became uncomfortable, at looked at Thranduil with silent, pleading eyes.

“Bain, I’d like you to take Esta out for some exercise.” He gave his son an encouraging smile, when Bain opened his mouth to protest.  “We will not take long, and when we return, your friend will be feeling much better.” He looked at Rhys, “Would you like Lady Bronwyn to accompany us?”

The boy looked relieved, and nodded.

 

As they were walking to the Healing Halls, Bronwyn and Thranduil purposely kept up a trivial, cheerful chatter, to ease Rhys’s nervousness. Once there, Thranduil was surprised, when Rhys asked if he could come with him, when Elénaril examined him.

“I don’t want Mistress Bronwyn or Bain to see,” he explained, looking ashamed. “It’s just that, they’ll get upset, and they’ll want to say something, and... they'll keep wanting to talk, and I just want to forget about it.

“I understand. Are you sure?”

“No… I mean… Yes...  I don’t want to be by myself. But if you don’t want to…” Rhys was nervous.

“I understand. Let us see what can be done, yes?” Thranduil put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I give you my solemn vow, Rhys: whatever we find in there will not be made public.”

The child looked relieved. "I'd like that." He started to go in, but hesitated, sighing.

"Come, child. It will be all right."

 

Once the examination was done, Rhys was feeling much better.  The next issue was where to put the boy, but that was quickly settled.  Upon their return to the his chambers, the children approached Thranduil, asking if Rhys could stay with them, in the spare room. Thranduil was touched by their invitation, but left the choice up to Rhys.  The boy seemed relieved and comfortable with the idea, so Guards were dispatched to bring all of Rhys’s things and he was installed in the children’s apartment, in time for dinner.

To help ease Rhys’s transition, the family spent the evening quietly in Thranduil’s chambers. The boys tried to play Stratagem, but Rhys had a hard time concentrating, so they settled for Draughts instead. Sigrid read aloud from a book of stories, and everyone listened, while Hilda helped Tilda learn to sew.

Once they were all bathed and settled in, Thranduil and Hilda came to say good night to them.  After leaving Hilda with the girls, Thranduil went in to speak with Bain.

“Are you mad at me?” the boy asked.

“Why would I be angry at you, _Ionneg_?” Thranduil was taken aback by the question.

“Because I didn’t tell you about Rhys right away. He made me promise, and I really didn’t know what to do.”

Thranduil looked at the boy thoughtfully. “You were faced with a difficult situation, and I am glad you are the kind of child that takes his promises seriously. It is often hard to know how to handle such things.  Did he tell you outright that he was being hurt?"

"No.  He just said he fell.  When I kept asking questions, he made me promise not to say anything."

"I see.  You did not want Rhys to stop trusting you, yet you thought he was in danger.  There were  no easy answers, and no matter what you chose to do, you were faced with great difficulty."

Bain let out a relieved breath. “It was so hard, and I’m sorry if you’re mad…"

Thranduil put his hand on Bain’s arm. “I am not angry with you at all.  I am very, _very_ angry that your friend was hurt, but you helped to rescue him. If not, he could have had much more serious injuries."

The boy nodded. “What would you do?”

“I think, if I were presented with a problem such as this, I would have to decide what is more important, and why.  I have no doubt that you honestly meant to keep your promise, but when you thought about it more, you knew _something_ had to be done, am I correct?"

Bain nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“There are times, Bain, when a secret clearly should not be kept. It does not happen often, but when the ones we care about are in any kind of danger, we must always think about their safety, before anything else, even if it means they will be angry.  Now, let me ask you:  What would you do, if something like this happened again?”

“I definitely I would come and tell you, or Da, or even Bronwyn.  Rhys is my friend, and I did make a promise, but if it turned out he could really be hurt, I would break my promise to keep him safe.”

“What if Rhys became angry, and no longer wished to be your friend?” The Elvenking asked, tilting his head. “What if he never forgave you, even though he would be safe?”

“Well, I was  _really_ afraid of that, but… I think I would still tell.  It's more important that he doesn't get hurt, even if we weren't friends anymore.  I'd be upset, but I think it would be the right thing to do.” Bain decided.

“Then you have learned something important, from this. I would also point out, that you _did_ find a way to let your Da and me know, did you not?”

“Aye, but I don’t think that was good enough, because it took too much time. What if something really bad happened? It would be my fault!”

“Let us be thankful that it did not, Bain.  In any case, _none_ of this was your fault.   All the blame lies at the feet of the persons who caused the harm.” Thranduil brushed the hair away from the boy’s brow.  He looked so much like Bard, it almost hurt; he missed his husband, that much.  “Forgive yourself, Bain. Now that you know better, you will do better, yes?”

“Aye,” Bain snuggled down and turned on his side. “Goodnight.”

“Sleep well.”

Thranduil made his way to the other boy’s room.

“I hope you are feeling better, Rhys,” he said, while standing in the doorway to his room. Esta had decided that her place was with the blonde boy, and was on the bed, jammed up against him, with her head on his stomach. “I see you made a friend,” he smiled.

“I like her a lot.” He stroked her head.

“She seems to like you, too. Do you have everything you need? Are you still free of pain?”

“I feel a lot better, My Lord. The Healer lady helped a lot!”

“I am glad. I want you to be comfortable here, Rhys. If you feel unhappy for any reason, I want you to speak with me, or Lady Bronwyn, or Lady Hilda. We’re all here to help you. Do you understand?”

He nodded. Then he looked up and smiled, for the first time since he arrived. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome.” He shut the door, leaving it open a crack.  "Have a good sleep."

 

Later, after he had written another installment in Legolas’s book, he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Thranduil had kept a calm, encouraging smile all through the afternoon, and throughout Elénaril’s examination of the boy, even when he saw the bruises and marks all over his back, his bottom, and across the back of his legs; everywhere clothing would normally cover.

He met the Healer's gaze several times, with concern, but she kept up a light-hearted tone of voice, as if her only worry was the weather. She asked Rhys many questions, somehow managing to put them across in a non-threatening way. After carefully explaining everything she was doing, Elénaril inspected Rhys thoroughly, until she determined the extent of his injuries, and managed to heal most of what pained him. Thank the Stars and all the Valar, there was no sign of sexual abuse.

For lingering soreness, she prescribed Athelas oil in his bath, and gave Thranduil a salve, to be administered twice a day, to speed the disappearance of the marks, and to prevent any scarring.

A detailed report of Rhys’s injuries was prepared for their records, and Galion made two copies in Westron, so it could be attached to both the indictment against the ladies, and another to be sent back to Alun.

He was able to maintain his countenance through dinner, and all the rest of the evening, even privately, when he helped Rhys after his bath to put the salve in the places the boy couldn’t reach, away from the eyes of the others. He asked the boy questions about his archery, and his schoolwork, so the boy would not feel ashamed or embarrassed.

Now that Thranduil was able to drop the cheerful façade, he tried his best to relax and go to sleep. Unfortunately he found himself tossing and turning, and not just because he missed his husband.

He had been King for almost three millennia, and had a lot of practice at keeping the inner workings of his mind to himself.  

There have been times, though, when staying calm required a gargantuan effort.

This day was one of them.

 

***************

 

**LEGAL DOCUMENTS SENT FROM DALE TO THE WOODLAND REALM:**

 

 

 

> _**To Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm and to Whom It May Concern:** _
> 
> _I, **Alun of Dale** (formerly of Laketown), do hereby give my express permission to remove my son, **Rhys of Dale** (formerly of Laketown), a child, from the custody of my mother, **Ina of Dale,** and my aunt, **Iona of Dale,** (formerly of Laketown)._
> 
> _I declare that this removal of my son from their custody be permanent with no exceptions, and that any financial support that the women might be given to care for my son, be immediately stopped._
> 
> _I, as the father and parental guardian of **Rhys of Dale,** forbid the aforementioned ladies from seeing or speaking with my son, and are to be kept physically from him, regardless of circumstances, or the personal wishes of Ina or Iona, or even of Rhys, himself._
> 
> _I hereby also remove myself from any obligations to the aforementioned women, financial and/or legal. To be specific, I will not be answerable to anyone, for crimes they have committed, nor am I obligated to protect their persons, with regard to housing or financial support._
> 
> _I hereby grant **Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm,** temporary custody of my son, Rhys, with all the legal obligations and protections that he requires, to carry out his duties as his temporary guardian._
> 
> _I hereby grant **Hilda, Seneschal of Dale,** secondary temporary custody of my son, **Rhys of Dale,** should the King of the Woodland Realm be unable to fulfill his duties for any reason. In the event that King Thranduil or Lady Hilda are unable to fulfill these duties, I grant **Galion, Chief Aide and Steward of the Woodland**_  
>  _**Realm**  tertiary guardianship over my son, **Rhys of Dale.**_
> 
> _**Lord Thrandui** l has my permission to represent and advocate for Rhys in all matters concerning his physical and emotional safety, and to carry out suitable action regarding the indictment made against my mother, **Ina,** and my aunt, **Iona,** for physical harm and emotional harm done to my son, **Rhys of Dale.**_
> 
> _**Lord Thranduil** has my permission to represent **Rhys,** should it be necessary, regarding the indictment against my mother, **Ina,** and my aunt, **Iona,** for the physical and verbal assault against **Bain, Crown Prince of Dale.**_
> 
> _**Lord Thranduil** has my permission to represent **Rhys,** should it be necessary, regarding the indictment against my mother, **Ina** , and my aunt, **Iona,** for the physical and verbal assault against **Sigrid, Princess of Dale.**_
> 
> _I attest that I am of sound mind, and I hereby affix my signature:_
> 
> _**Alun, son of Alwyn, Treasurer of Dale** _
> 
> _This custody agreement was written and signed before me, Bard, King of Dale. I hereby order, that the child, Rhys, son of Alun of Dale, age twelve years, be immediately and permanently removed from the custody of Ina and Iola of Dale, with no exceptions. I grant my subject, Alun of Dale, full permission to request that Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, be assigned as primary guardian, Hilda of Dale, as secondary guardian, and Galion of the Woodland Realm, as tertiary guardian, until such time as the boy can be returned to the custody of his father, which will take place when spring comes in the year S.A 2942, and the roads are passable between the Woodland Realm and Dale, or the 30th day of April, whichever comes first._
> 
> _I hereby assign and affix my signature and seal to this document, on this, the 15th day of January, in the year 2942, T.A._
> 
> _**Bard, son of Brand, Heir of Girion, King of Dale** _
> 
> _Witness: **Percy, son of Daffyd,** Chief Administrator and Steward of Dale_  
>  _Witness: **Tauriel,** **daughter of Thranduil,** Chief Guard to Prince and Princesses of Dale_  
>  _Witness: **Benjamin, son of Jon,** City Planner and Master Builder of Dale_
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> _Kingdom of Dale_
> 
> _VS._
> 
> _**Ina, a subject of Dale,** formerly of Laketown, defendant_  
>  _**Iola, a subject of Dale** , formerly of Laketown, defendant_
> 
>  
> 
> _The above defendants are hereby accused, by this indictment, of physical and verbal assault upon the following persons:_
> 
> _**Rhys, son of Alun,** subject of Dale, age twelve._  
>  _**Bain, Crown Prince of Dale, son of Bard, King of Dale,** age thirteen._  
>  _**Sigrid, Princess of Dale, daughter of Bard, King of Dale,** age fifteen._
> 
> _By their own admission, as stated in their letter to Bard, King of Dale, dated the 10th of January, 2942 T.A.; they have physically assaulted Rhys, son of Alun, grandson and great-nephew, respectively. In said letter it was stated by the defendant, Ina of Dale: “ **I** **don’t** **hesitate** **to** **cuff** **him** **about** **the** **ears** , **to** **make** **sure** **he** **behaves**.”_
> 
> _In the same letter, it was also stated by the defendants, their open admission to physically putting hands upon the Crown Prince and Princess of Dale: **“He** [Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm] **had the nerve to tell me that those children are his and I had no right to lay hands on them. I have every right, and I did not hesitate to set those children straight.”**_
> 
> _Also, in the same letter, it was stated by the defendants, their open admission to verbally assaulting the same Prince and Princess of Dale: **“If they** [Sigrid, Princess of Dale, and Bain, Crown Prince of Dale] **were my children, they would have gotten slapped, and I told them so, and I don’t mind telling you, either.”**_
> 
> _In a written statement by Bain, Crown Prince of Dale, he attests to this unlawful physical contact: **“Rhys’s grandma and great-aunt grabbed me and Sigrid in the hall last week…”**_
> 
> _In the same statement, Prince Bain refers to the verbal assault and threats of physical harm, as well: **“Rhys’s grandma said she’d slap us silly if we thought we could speak to them like that! She said we deserved it for being mouthy brats.”**_
> 
>  
> 
> _I decree, by my signature on this document, with the approval and cooperation of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, which is the temporary residence of the defendants, that **Ina** **and** **Iola** **of** **Dale** be separated from the rest of the population, and be prevented access to them for the remainder of their stay. _
> 
> _They are to receive no letters or correspondence of any kind, no gifts of any kind, and they are not to be approached by, nor are they permitted to approach, any subject of Dale, for the remainder of their stay._
> 
> _I also request of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, that the defendants be placed under armed guard, and that only the Elven Language of Sindarin be spoken around them._
> 
> _I hereby grant Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm my **full permission** to issue whatever edict he deems fit, with the assistance of Lady Hilda, Chief Administrator and Seneschal of Dale, should any of my commands concerning the defendants be broken, during their stay in his Halls._
> 
> _I affix my seal and signature to this document on this, the 15th day of January, in the year 2942, T.A._
> 
> _**Bard, son of Brand, Heir of Girion, King of Dale** _
> 
> _Witness: **Percy, son of Daffyd,** Chief Administrator and Steward of Dale_  
>  _Witness: **Tauriel, daughter of Thranduil,** Chief Guard to Prince and Princesses of Dale_  
>  _Witness: **Feren, son of Imrahil,** Commander of the Army of the Woodland Realm_

* * *

 _(Thranduil: I have enclosed some releases to give to the servants of the ladies in question. Please tell them to keep them in a safe place, should Ina and Iola try to legally pursue their former servants for any reason.)_  

> _I, **Bard, Son of Brand, Heir of Girion, King of Dale,** do hereby decree that:_
> 
> _**Lynne of Dale** , formerly of Laketown, who, at one time were the servants of Ina of Dale, formerly of Laketown, and Iola of Dale, formerly of Laketown, be officially free of any and all obligations, physical, monetary or in any other way, to their former employers and she will be free to pursue any livelihood she wishes._
> 
> _By affixing and assigning my seal and signature to this document, on this, the 15th day of January, in the year 2942, T.A., I declare this edict to be in effect immediately and permanently. As King of Dale, I wish her well, as I do all the citizens of my Kingdom._
> 
> _**Bard, Son of Brand, Heir of Girion, King of Dale** _
> 
> _Witness: **Percy, son of Daffyd** , Chief Administrator and Steward of Dale_  
>  _Witness: **Tauriel, daughter of Thranduil** , Chief Guard to Prince and Princesses of Dale_

* * *

 

> _I, **Bard, Son of Brand, Heir of Girion,** **King** **of** **Dale** , do hereby decree that:_
> 
> _**Mona of Dale,** formerly of Laketown, who, at one time were the servants of Ina of Dale, formerly of Laketown, and Iola of Dale, formerly of Laketown, be officially free of any and all obligations, physical, monetary, or in any other way, real or imagined, to their former employers and she will be free to pursue any livelihood she wishes._
> 
> _By affixing and assigning my seal and signature to this document, on this, the 15th day of January, in the year 2942, T.A., I declare this edict to be in effect immediately and permanently. As King of Dale, I wish her well, as I do all the citizens of my Kingdom._
> 
> _**Bard, Son of Brand, Heir of Girion, King of Dale** _
> 
> _Witness: **Percy, son of Daffyd** , Chief Administrator and Steward of Dale_  
>  _Witness: **Tauriel, daughter of Thranduil** , Chief Guard to Prince and Princesses of Dale_
> 
>  

 

ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:

 _Mae g'ovannen_ – Well met (informal)  
_Cuio vae_ \- Farewell  
_Mae de 'ovannen_ – Well met (formal)  
_De athae_ \- Thank you/You were helpful (formal)  
_Nîth_ – Young man

 

NOTES:  
Strategem – Dale’s version of chess. The Elves call it Dagornaw.  
Draughts - Checkers

I am only guessing at the legal wording of the documents, so please, be kind...  :D

Thanks to this website for help with all the Sindarin!  
https://realelvish.net/phrasebooks/sindarin/doriath/#hi


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard learns lesson in Kinging, from a surprising source.
> 
> Thranduil and Daeron give the boys a lesson in swordsmanship, along with an entertaining demonstration.
> 
> Both of our Kings have difficulty sleeping at night as they continue to miss each other, but Bard gets some unexpected "help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6-27-2018
> 
> Please enjoy the new illustrations for this chapter done by the talented [Creepy Scientist on Tumblr! Make sure you check out her blog!](http://creepyscientist.tumblr.com/)

**City** **of** **Dale** , **19 th** **of** **January** , **2942** , **T**. **A**.

 

Bard had sent back the wagons to The Woodland Realm with the scheduled reports and letters with a sense of relief.  They all had been grateful two days ago, when Thranduil sent a messenger, reporting that the situation with the women had been dealt with, exactly the way Bard had ordered.   

It was important that this box of messages get to Thranduil and his family, because it included a wooden box containing some special items made by the King Under the Mountain himself.  Bard sent this off with a bittersweet smile.  It would be the first time Bard had missed any of this children's birthdays, and he  _hated_ the idea of missing this one, especially.

The Elvenking made a point, in his message, to ease Alun’s worry, stating that Rhys had been removed immediately, and now he was living with Bard’s children, under his care.  He had written that the details of the court proceedings will be included with the correspondence box next week, along with their copies of needed court documents and reports.

When the messenger came, Alun ran in right to Bard’s study behind him, and when they learned the news, he collapsed into a chair from relief.

“Thank you, My Lord.” He told the King, his face in his hands.  “Thank you so much…”

“It is I who should thank you, Alun.  You’ve been a tremendous help with the legal documents; as much as King Thranduil has been teaching us, you’re the best man for that job.”

In fact, besides his urgent desire to see his son safe, Alun truly showed his quality as a loyal administrator to Dale itself, not just Bard.  Even in his furious, frantic state, he had urged caution with his judgment upon the ladies.

Alun had worked in the Master’s office for years, and was forced to witness his tyranny and apathy up close. He had urged Bard to learn from the many, many mistakes he saw the Master and Alfrid make.  Bard and Percy were shocked when he urged them to step back, and consider the long-term ramifications, and reminded him that every decision in criminal matters such as this, will set legal precedent.  And any criminal defendant should be judged in front of their King and with all the people of Dale present.

All of Dale will be watching Bard, Alun told him, to see what he'll do.  They were looking for proof that Bard will be a just and fair King, and he stood to lose respect and authority, if he reacted on an angry whim.  It was Alun himself, who had suggested keeping the women under armed guard, and separate, to await trial in Dale.

After losing everything in the fires and the Battle, the people of Dale need to see for themselves, that they indeed have a voice.

 Now that Rhys was safe, and the women were confined, Bard could get back to the urgent business of giving his people a decent home.

 

Life in the Great Hall was falling nicely into a routine.  Old Ben and Bard had prioritized the order of construction, and put together several effective crews. Percy organized the gathering and delivery of supplies brilliantly.  

When he and Ben examined Thranduil’s sketches and paintings of the Old Dale, Bard had only made minor adjustments. He wanted to the housing for the elderly beside the Healing Halls and a much bigger school away from the Market, with plenty of space for the children to play.  All the buildings in the Market square should have two stories, so folks could live above their businesses, if they chose to. 

When Bard was not walking with Old Ben, as he monitored all the crews, he dug in to the work himself.  He missed physical labor, and it helped him to work off his worries about his new job, and tired him out so, that he could fall asleep at night, instead of missing Thranduil and the children.

Two large crews were assigned the repair of the watchtowers and parapets, while other crews built the houses.  Once the greatest share of the work on Dale’s fortification was done, those crews would disperse between the Marketplaces and the rest of the homes.  The Dwarves arrived daily, hauling large blocks of stone, and set to work.  Once the blocks were in place, the Elves set up the trusses along the top, and built the roofs, using red clay tiles provided by the Dwarves, as well. These would hold up well against the elements; they would deflect the heat in the summer, and keep the warmth from the fires in the winter. 

With so many hands at work, Dale was growing fast, despite the cold.  It seemed that much of the arrogance and prejudice between the races had vanished, after all those accursed Orcs poured out of the tunnels to kill them all.  

That’s not to say there weren’t problems.  When there were, all parties were to sit down with Bard, Feren (as Thranduil’s proxy), and Balin, to work it out.  However, Dáin insisted on coming himself, at times, rather than Balin, because, as he told Bard, his people sometimes “need a firm hand,” more than diplomacy. 

The other day, a couple of the younger Dwarves tried to get mouthy and pick a fight with the Elves.  These Dwarves were surprised to see the King Under the Mountain, himself, show up to settle their dispute.  That meeting was followed by King Dáin dragging those two by the beards into a back room of the old Castle, and lots of shouting and knocking around was heard, followed by bellows of pain.

Bard didn’t argue with it. So long as no one was killed or injured, and nothing set on fire, Bard shrugged his shoulders and let Dáin get on with it.  “A good King knows his people,” as Thranduil had said, and Dáin certainly knew what was needed to deal with his own subjects. 

The two erstwhile Dwarves were made to apologize to everyone, and were shipped to Erebor, to clean chamber pots for the next two months.  Two other Dwarves came in their place; Bard was pleasantly surprised to see Bombur and Nori happily settled in with the work crews. Nori especially enjoyed the gaming at night, which is probably why he volunteered for this job.  Bomber like to use is free time to help cook, so it was a good arrangement all around.

The Dwarves bringing the blocks of stone to help build often stayed into the evening, having a pint or two. Three was the limit – the last thing Bard needed was drunken brawls, plus he wanted to make the ale last.  The Dwarves had made several sets of darts for Dale, according to Percy’s specifications, and somehow the Steward of Dale found a way to construct decent Dart boards.  This seemed to be their favorite game, and damned if they weren’t good at it; even giving the Elves a run for their money!

Several games were set up at night, and Percy was organizing tournaments; King Dáin got into the spirit of things and provided the prizes; small sacks of coin.  He himself had been eliminated early in Draughts, but there were a couple of Dwarves from the Iron Hills, and Bifur from the Original Company, that were still alive in the Stratagem semi-finals. 

Thank heaven, the practical jokes had stopped.  After Percy had to work Bard’s shift mucking out the barns, he rethought his strategy of making his King look like an idiot.  He also found that Bard would pay him back by throwing a _Lembas_ cake at Thangon and letting him spend the day on Percy’s bed.  A hard-won peace once again reigned in the Castle.

But as much fun as Percy was trying to make for the men, it didn’t make up for the loneliness and the absence of loved ones.  Letters helped a great deal, but not quite enough.

 At night, Bard could only sleep because he worked himself into near exhaustion.  Otherwise, he'd wake up and ache for his Elf. Several times, he woke up from a beautiful dream of them, locked in a passionate embrace, hearing all the noises Thranduil made when they were together, feeling his mouth, his hands, his cock inside of him, or dreams of pounding into his Elf’s moist heat while above him, and watching Thranduil’s face as he moaned and cried out, and he exploded and saw stars.  Sometimes he would wake with come all over him, panting. Other times, he would wake up, rock hard, aching, and he would reach into his sleeping pants and touch himself, pretending it was Thranduil. 

_Valar, he missed his husband…_

How was Thranduil handling all this, he wondered?  He thought about writing him and telling him all his dirty fantasies, but he didn’t dare, lest the letters fall into unscrupulous hands.  He even fantasized about Thranduil sending him provocative pictures of himself.  Or pictures of them together, in many of the positions they had tried and liked.  Thranduil was just as reticent as he was to put anything of a steamy nature on paper. 

Still, when letters came from his husband, he couldn’t help but have a feel a small flutter of hope, as he broke the seal. 

~o0o~

> A week and a half after returning to Dale, Bard woke up, tense and panting.  He’d been dreaming of being inside Thranduil from behind, pounding into him, as his Elf arched his back, moaning his name, begging him for more.  Every time he hit Thranduil’s prostate, he would feel the jolt of pleasure himself, as Thranduil cried out, thrust his hips back, meeting him with equal force… 
> 
> Bard felt like he’d die if he didn’t do something. He jerked at the laces on his sleeping clothes, and plunged his hand around his hot, hard cock, and groaned, as he closed his eyes.  His head went back and his mouth fell open as he stroked himself, moaning.  As he worked his cock, with increasing speed, he felt his pleasure rise to the point he was thrusting his hips clean off the mattress to get to his hand.  He felt the pressure building, the heat shoot through him and settling at the base of his spine, the tingle in his groin begin, and his muscles tense…   _Oh_ _fuck, I’m almost there_ …  _I’m gonna come…  Oh, yes…_    He was moaning Thranduil’s name, and just about to come…
> 
> …when a huge wet tongue began to lick his face in earnest. 
> 
> “ **AAAAAAAAAAAH**!!!!” He let out a high-pitched shriek at the top of his lungs, as his arms and legs flailed wildly with terror.  The sudden fright caused him to jump nearly out of his skin, and he fell off the bed. 
> 
> Thank the Valar, he landed on his arse.  His cock was still rock-hard, and things could have been ...unfortunate. 
> 
> Thangon, determined to save his master, quickly jumped to the floor and stood over Bard, still licking his face.
> 
> “WILL YOU GET **OFF** ME?” Bard howled, and sputtered, as he tried to push Thangon’s tongue away from his face. Then he looked at the giant beast, the blood pounding in his ears.  “You… big… bloody... _arse!_  " he hissed, through gritted teeth. ** _“_** _You… fucking **BASTARD**!”_
> 
> The dog's eyes narrowed, as he tilted his head from side to side. Thangon had woken out of a sound sleep to rescue Bard, and clearly his master should be more grateful.
> 
> Bard could swear that damned dog just rolled his eyes at him.
> 
> He lay there on the floor, trying to put his heart back into his chest, when he heard shuffling in the hallway, coming toward his bedroom door.  **_“_** _SHIT!”_ Bard gasped, and barely managed to tuck himself back in his underclothes, and get his sleep clothes rearranged, before Tauriel and two guards burst into his room. 
> 
> “Bard!  Are you all right?” Tauriel ran over to him and helped him up, as Thangon wagged his tail and barked at her, telling her all about his heroic rescue.
> 
> “Um. I just. Well…”  The Bowman felt his face blush deep red, and he could have sworn that damned dog just smirked at him.
> 
> “Are you well, Bard?”  Her face was worried.  “You look flushed.” She felt his forehead.  “Do you have a fever?”
> 
> “Uh, no I don’t think so,” Bard told her, pretending like this wasn’t the most embarrassing moment of his entire life.
> 
> “Did you have a nightmare?”
> 
> Bard froze, and blink a few times. “A nightmare...  Aye.”
> 
> After that night, he made sure to put the dog out first.  Or prayed for strength.  Or drank.

 

**************

 

 **The** **Woodland** **Realm** , **19 th** **of** **January** , **2942** , **T**. **A**.

Three days after Rhys was moved into the children’s apartment, the older boys of Dale were in the practice arena with Daeron and two other Elves, for their weapons training.  They were sitting cross-legged on the ground in a semi-circle, as Daeron lectured and demonstrated the moves he was describing with another Elf.

“It is important to know how to move in a sword fight.  Your weight must be on the balls of your feet, ready to move in any direction necessary. A good swordsman is in constant motion; but keep in mind, you do not just ‘dance’ around; make your movements purposeful and controlled. 

 “A good swordfighter knows and applies with expertise, only a handful of key principles. They take the time to learn about their enemy, and how they like to fight, about timing, distance, leverage, and technique.  These principles will be broken down into manageable steps, and you must learn and apply these well.  If you rush yourself, you will become overwhelmed and clumsy.  You would not only be a liability to yourself, but also to those fighting at your side.”

Thranduil entered the ring at that moment, wearing his practice gear and carrying his swords.  He waited off to the side, until Daeron had concluded his lecture.

“Today, we have a treat.  Our King has graciously agreed to give you all a demonstration of Elven fighting skills for your enjoyment.  I would like you to keep in mind that a good fighter must first know his own abilities and limitations, so he may learn to use them to his advantage.  Do not aspire to fight like an Elf, nor should you fight like a Dwarf.  It is always good to pick up techniques from other races, but only in the context of what works best for you.”

Daeron turned to the Elvenking, and gave him a salute.  _“Mae g'ovannen, Aran nî_ _n.”_

Thranduil returned the salute, and responded. _“Mae g'ovannen, Magor.”_

The boys were dispatched up in the seating area, as Daeron and Thranduil got their sparring equipment in place, then began by showing their skills with a single sword.  They purposely went slowly, and would often stop, so Daeron or Thranduil could point out a certain specific movement or technique.  Their next round was much faster, and the boys were astounded at their speed and precise movements.

Then, they prepared to fight with a sword in each hand, just as Thranduil used in the Battle.  He took his dull-edged practice swords over to their students, to allow them to hold them, and feel their weight and balance.  Then he explained the very basics of dual-wield fighting, the sword held normally in the dominant hand, and the other held against the other forearm for parrying.

He and Daeron saluted each other, and began.  What followed was a beautiful dance, with blades flying so swiftly, it was difficult for their eyes to follow.  There were incredible jumps and flips high in the air, causing the boys to gasp.  As they traveled around the ring, the two made use of the walls to somersault, and land behind their opponent, or wherever gave them the advantage.  Every boy’s mouth was hanging open, and they were wide-eyed in amazement.

Finally, Daeron was on the ground, with Thranduil’s sword pointing at this throat.  _“Devig?”_ he asked the Lieutenant, with his eyebrow raised.

 _“Devin!”_ Daeron replied, with a grin, as Thranduil offered his hand to help him up.  The two bowed to each other, and saluted, as all the students cheered.

 

“That was unbelievable!” Bain was saying to Rhys, as Thranduil and Daeron accompanied them through the Palace back to their apartment.  “Wasn’t that great?”

Rhys nodded.  “I couldn’t _believe_ how fast you were!  I’d love to be able to do that!  You make it look so easy, My Lord!”

Thranduil smiled down at the boys, a bit sweaty and from his vigorous activity.  “It takes many years of training and hard work to make it look effortless, so do not be fooled.”

While they were walking near the Main Doors, the Elvenking noticed that the wagons had returned from Dale, and an Elf was headed toward their rooms with the correspondence box.

“Look!  It’s letters from Da, finally!”  Bain pointed, excitedly.  “Can we have them now?”

“Maybe my Da wrote me again!” Rhys said. 

“I am afraid Lady Hilda, and Galion must sort through them first.  They will be ready for you at dinnertime.”

“I can’t wait to write Da about my new room!  And I have to tell him about how much Esta likes me.  Maybe we’ll get a dog, when I can go home!”

Thranduil was grateful the boy seemed cheerful.  “The next box will the Realm in week, and you have plenty of things to write your Das about.”

As the boys continued to chat together, Thranduil’s heart pounded at the idea of a letter from Bard.  He missed his _Meleth_ terribly. This afternoon’s demonstration served a dual purpose.  The vigorous activity served to impress and entertain the boys, and it also helped to alleviate some of some of his own tension, from laying awake at nights, thinking about Bard. 

He wasn’t entirely lonely.  Occasionally, after Bard left, Tilda would wake up and need comforted.  Last week, Esta came and woke him, because Tilda was suffering a terrible nightmare, and she was shaking and upset.  Thranduil wasn't surprised at this; after her terrible shock from the Battle, she was sensitive, and frightened easily.  

He quickly learned, though, to brace himself for little feet to walk up and down his back or side until morning.  Bard wasn't exaggerating, when he said Tilda “ran a race” in her sleep.  Thranduil decided she was more like a fish on dry land.  Flip, flop, kick, thrash...  

Once, he had been startled awake after an unfortunate and painful kick in his crotch.  He managed to sit up, with his hands clutching his balls and did his best sweat it out, while the little girl lay, oblivious to his misery.  Thranduil’s eyes bugged out and his face grew red from the agony, as hissed a litany of Bard’s favorite curses under his breath, and was surprised to discover it actually helped. 

He also learned to line up some extra pillows between himself and his youngest daughter, to ensure future relations with his husband.

 

 

 

Despite all this, he missed his husband constantly: his very skin ached at Bard’s absence. Their first time together, was something still beyond his ability to describe, and since then, he craved the wild, feral urgency between them. 

Thranduil was a strong Elf, but Bard somehow answered his touches with equal force, driving him senseless.  Sex with Bard was beyond anything he knew could exist.  They were sometimes gentle with each other, and it was wonderful, but sometimes they were rough and savage, and _Oh, howhelovedit…_ He missed how complete he felt inside, when Bard was near.  He missed knowing how his husband felt, especially when they were physically together.  There have been times at night, when he woke up panting, and found he had come in his sleep.  He wondered if it was he who had the dream, or was it his husband?

As much as he longed for Bard, there was more to his yearning than sex.  He missed Bard’s laugh, his humor, and those beautiful forest-green eyes.  He loved how it felt to be gathered in his husband’s arms as they drifted off to sleep, with one leg thrown over Thranduil in a warm, protective embrace.  He treasured how it felt, to wake up surrounded by his Bowman, as he snored, oh so softly, into the back of his neck.  It made him feel safe, and it gave him a peace he had not known for centuries.

His cock twitched, involuntarily, and he silently moaned to himself.  When they were finally reunited, he'd have to find a way for them to stay in bed for _**days**_ , to make up for lost time…

Until then, he would have to take it out on his weapons.

 

 

***************

 

 

**LETTERS FROM DALE**

 

* * *

 

To Thranduil from Bard:  

> _Hello My King,_
> 
> _First and foremost, thank you for sending the messenger so quickly, regarding Rhys.  As much as I trust you, and you know I do, we all were holding our breath, until we knew for certain he was safe, especially Alun.  These ladies will be brought before me and my people after they all return, and I will deal with them then.  In the meantime, I hope they give you and yours a minimum of grief._
> 
> _Hopefully the nasty business is all taken care of, and we can get on with things, and for now, we’ll just concentrate on looking after Rhys.  There’s too much we need to accomplish, to let ourselves be any more distracted than we must be._
> 
> _How is Bain, with all this?  This must have been upsetting for him, and I’d like to know how he fares._
> 
> _I hate not being there for the Little Bean, when she wakes up crying, but it helps to know you’re taking care of her.  Kiss her for me, will you?_
> 
> _I’m sorry I didn’t mention this before--When she was little, sometimes she cried so hard, she got winded.  A lady in Dale told me a trick to help her when she does that: blow into her face really quick and hard.  It will startle her, so she’ll inhale.  I’ve noticed she’s been doing that again, since the Battle, when she wakes upset._
> 
> _Hilda told me all the orphans in Dale have been placed, in a trial basis, but it looks good, so far.  Happy to hear it.  Whether they stay there in the Woodland Realm, or come back to be raised in Dale, the most important thing is that they get happy and loving homes._
> 
> _So glad you’re working on your book for Legolas, love. I wish I had some sort of likeness of Mattie, so you could draw it for the children to have.  We never could afford it when I was with her.  She still has family in Dorwinian, I think, so maybe once life slows down a bit, I’ll write and ask them._
> 
> _I heartily approve of Rhian staying in the Royal Wing.  I like the idea of a caretaker to stay with her.  At the very least, she’ll have someone with her to chase her out of her own head, and sometimes, that’s half the battle._
> 
> _I love the drawing of the kids!!  I can’t tell you how much it means to me to look at their faces whenever I want.  I want to get them framed, when I can, but for right now, I keep them in our bedchamber for me to look at before I go to sleep._
> 
> _They remind me why I am doing all this; why I’m separated from you all, and helps me pretend, at least for one more day; that it’s worth the loneliness.  I miss your face; please send me one of yourself, love._
> 
> _I hated to read how you reach for me in the dark, because I do the same here.  I suppose I’m luckier--when I reach for you, Thangon is there!  Don’t be jealous, love.  I love you best, but he doesn’t know that, and I don’t have the heart to tell him._
> 
> _I miss you. I miss everything single thing about you.  Thangon doesn’t really compare with my beautiful Elvenking – plus, he snores, and sometimes smells really bad._
> 
> _Gi Melin, Thranduil. Uireb. (See?  I’m learning Sindarin, too!)_
> 
> _Bard_
> 
> _P.S.  Don’t think I haven’t heard you’ve been sneaking the kids out to see the Elk, “Ada!”  Tilda, my little spy, has snitched on you.  In fact, a couple of the pictures she sent show you and her petting them, so I’ve got evidence of your crimes!  If any of my children loses a finger to those things, I’ll tell Hilda on you…_

* * *

To Sigrid from Bard: 

> _Dear Sigrid:_
> 
> _I’m so proud of you for learning Sindarin!  I’ve been working at it, too, but please don’t ask me to write any at the moment. I can spell some of it with Westron letters, but have no clue about Tengwar script.  Besides, lately I’ve been constantly writing things, and my head is a bit muddled._
> 
> _I know your Ada is taking care of you all, and I know you keep saying not to worry, but I can’t do that, love.  It’s what a Da does.  Bless you for looking after Ada.  He’s terribly lonely, not just for me, but for Tauriel and Legolas, too._
> 
> _Thangon snores, but I put up with it, because I like his company.  I like the idea of Daeron taking you to see the barracks.  Even though it’s not our Kingdom, there’s a lot we can learn from other countries how best we can do things.  I hear Daeron is doing an excellent job of looking after you._
> 
> _I also hear you kids have a roommate! I’m proud of you, for wanting him to stay with you.  So…  You’ve got a dog!  I hadn’t thought about how pets suffer in the aftermath of war, but it only makes sense to look after them, too.  Sheep dogs like Esta are one of the smartest dogs around, so you kids can teach her lots of tricks, to keep her busy.  Maybe Rhian would like a visit from her, too._
> 
> _Now that the business with Ina and Iola is finished, I want you kids to just get on with your lives, and let us handle it._
> 
> _Don’t forget what Ada said; if someone tries to draw you into an argument:  Say, “Speak with the King,” and walk away.  Make sure Rhys knows to do that too, because I’ll bet people are coming up to the poor kid, left and right, wanting to talk about it, so I’m counting on you three to make sure he’s okay._
> 
> _Your Ada drew me pictures of you kids, did he tell you? I love them and I look at them in the evenings before I go to bed, so you all don’t seem so far away._
> 
> _I love you my beautiful girl.  Know your Da is thinking of you all the time._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Da_

* * *

To Glélindë from Feren:   

> _Glélindë, Meleth nî_ _n,_
> 
> _I am overjoyed to hear that we now have a family!  Think of it, my sweet wife; we have daughters.  And we have a grandfather!  You must keep writing me and telling me all about them._
> 
> _Are the girls sleeping all night?  I was told that, for quite a while, they could not.  Are you getting enough rest?  Pardon me for making a fuss, Meleth nîn.  I just wish I was there to be with you all._
> 
> _Life in Dale is busy.  Building proceeds quickly, and our Elves have been diligently protecting Dale.  We also do quite a bit of hunting, which King Bard’s dog enjoys very much.  The men will often take turns with us. They like to get outdoors, and are learning the lay of this new land.  Living near a forest is new to them, so we make a point to teach them about the trees, plants and animals we encounter._
> 
> _I have learned to respect these brave Men, Glélindë.  They have an enormous number of things they need to learn and adjust to, with hardly any time to do so.   Despite all their losses, they strive, every day, to do their best.  I am glad, for our sake, my assignment here will be a long-term one.  There is much we Elves can learn, as well.  There have even been things the Dwarves have shown us, that I have found interesting and useful._
> 
> _So far, we have seen no bandits, nor even Orcs, thank Elbereth.  Fear not; we are ready for them, just the same._
> 
> _Love to you, and our new family._
> 
> _Gi melin,_
> 
> _Feren_

 

 

To Alis and Dafina from Feren: 

> _To My Wonderful and Pretty Daughters:_
> 
> _I am very glad that you are living with Naneth, and your Grandfather.  I hope you are very happy with us._
> 
> _Thank you for the beautiful pictures you made for me.  I makes me feel better, and I like them very much._
> 
> _Dafina, I love the one with me riding the horse, too.  It looks just like us!  Alis, you are a good artist and I can see how well you can write your name.  Please send me more, because I love to get them.  Lord Percy and King Bard and Tauriel made a fuss over them, too.  Perhaps you can draw them some pictures.  Please be good girls for your Naneth, and your Grandfather.  I think about you always and I am proud of you._
> 
> _Love, your Ada_

 

To Gruffudd from Feren:  

> _Greetings to our new Grandfather,_
> 
> _I wish to express my heartfelt thanks for allowing us to raise your beautiful granddaughters, and extend you a warm welcome._
> 
> _You will be an important part of the girls’ lives, Gruffudd.  You are their link to their past, and can keep the memory of their birth parents alive.  We wish them to know about your daughter, as well as her husband, so please, do not hesitate to share your memories, when you are able._
> 
> _I have often thought, that when a child is adopted, regardless of race, two questions loom in their minds:  Where did I come from?  And, was I loved?_
> 
> _You are in a unique position to provide our girls with this, and I hope you do._
> 
> _May you find comfort and peace in your new life with us, Gruffudd._
> 
> _With deepest regards,_
> 
> _Feren_

 

 

* * *

To Bain from Bard:  

> _Hello Son,_
> 
> _First, congratulations on your new roommate, and for being such a good friend to Rhys.  You helped to save him, and I am proud of you.  You’re a good son, and a good Prince, for looking out for the welfare of our people._
> 
> _So, you’ve started to work on archery now!  Good!  You know, Daeron is absolutely right about pacing yourself.  I made that mistake when I first started.  I wouldn’t listen to your Grand-Da, and I really hurt myself - I couldn’t draw a bow again for almost two months!_
> 
> _I’ve never had the time to watch Thranduil practice, so you’ve got the advantage on me.  I saw him during the Battle, though. He was a sight to behold! He’s called one of the Fiercest Warriors in Middle Earth for a reason._
> 
> _Sigrid told me how you spend your evenings, and I want you to know that you’re helping Thranduil as much as he’s helping you.  Trust me on this._
> 
> _I know you’re looking forward to seeing Thangon.  He’s an immense beast, but he can be goofy.  He’s good company._
> 
> _Take care of your friend Rhys, and let me know how he fares, all right._
> 
> _Love you son,_
> 
> _Da_

 

***************

 

To Hilda from Percy:    

> _Dear Wife of Mine,_
> 
> _Now, don’t you start yelling at anybody, because of course they’re going to tell me you tired yourself out!  And you do exactly what that Healer and Thranduil tell you, you hear?  I want my wife fit and whole when she gets back here.  You won’t be able to run this Castle if you’re too busy sick in bed!_
> 
> _I know you, my dear; you only do it because you love them all, and I admire you for it.  But let someone else take over every once in a while!_
> 
> _As far as children of our own, love, you’re right.  There’s no use wishing for things that will never be.  Just find joy in the family the Valar sent us to look after.  You and I love those kids like our own, and no three kids could love my wife more.  Bard is like a son to us, too._
> 
> _Please tell King Thranduil, I greatly admire his talent.  I was glad to get a picture of you - he captured you perfectly.  I makes my heart less empty when I look at it._
> 
> _Tauriel’s frantic with activity, to keep from being sad, but we make sure she isn’t alone.  Tell Thranduil that cat he sent her was just the thing!  She’s in that girl’s lap whenever she sits down, and spends her days following her._
> 
> _You’d love to see that cat with Thangon.  She bosses that dog around like nobody’s business, and if she thinks he’s not behaving, she hisses gives his nose a good swipe, which sends him whining and bawling to Bard.  Bloody coward, that one._
> 
> _I have to laugh, because when I see little Farien order that giant beast around, they remind me of you and Thranduil! (but don’t tell him I said that!)_
> 
> _Much love to my best girl.  Take care of yourself._
> 
> _Your Percy_

 

***************

To Tilda from Bard:   

> _Hello Little Bean,_
> 
> _Got your lovely pictures, and I think they’re grand.  I heard you met Thangon’s sister, and you got to be friends.  Thangon is bigger, but he’s just as nice.  In fact, Tauriel’s cat likes to beat him up!  Don’t worry, she’s just playing, but Farien is definitely the boss of the animals around here!_
> 
> _I’m sorry, Little Bean, but you must practice your letters and your spelling just as Galion tells you.  You want to be able to write me nice letters, yeah?_
> 
> _I liked the picture with you petting the Elk, but just make sure your **Ada** is always with you when you go see them, all right?_
> 
> _I’m glad you’re doing so many fun things and keeping busy._
> 
> _Love you,_
> 
> _Da_

***************

 

To Hilda from Bard:  

> _Dear Hilda,_
> 
> _Thank you for the report. I’m glad you’re keeping me abreast of what our people are doing and learning.  Makes me feel hopeful for the future._
> 
> _Make sure to rest when the Healer tells you to.  That’s my order as your King.  We love you and need you too much, for you to wear yourself out to the point of sickness._
> 
> _Don’t worry, Hil.  I’m looking after Percy, even though he likes all the jokes._
> 
> _I walked through a doorway last week, only to have a bucket of water dumped over me, and yes, everyone laughed.  Percy stopped laughing, however, when I told him that it was my turn to clean the stalls in the barn that day, and I couldn’t go out with wet hair, so he had to take my shift!_
> 
> _And since I locked Thangon in his room, he’s never fed the dog Lembas again!  Ha Ha!_
> 
> _Love to all,_
> 
> _Bard_

 

***************

To Sigrid, Bain and Tilda, from Percy:   

> _Hey there, Sea Monsters!_
> 
> _Are you keeping my wife and that Elvenking on their toes?  Good!  Loved the letters you sent, and Little Bean, your pictures were beautiful, and I’ve tacked them up all over my door to my room so I can see them._
> 
> _Don’t you worry, we’re working hard to get houses built for all you people in Dale.  Between the Men of Dale, the Elves, and the Dwarves, you’ll be shocked when you come back!_
> 
> _Did your Da tell somebody has been playing jokes on him?  Well, he has.  He suspects it’s me, but I’d never do that.  Did your Da also tell you, that if you feed Lembas to Thangon, he farts?  Shhh! Don’t tell your Auntie Hil, or she’ll tan my hide when she sees me, for being a bad influence on you.  We all know I would never, ever do that…_
> 
> _Sigrid, thanks for telling me your Auntie Hil needs to rest more.  I want you three to make sure she does exactly that, even if you have to tie her down!  Tilda, you just keep on crawling on her lap and refuse to get up, if you think she’s working too hard, okay, Beanie?_
> 
> _Love to all, and be good.  But not too good._
> 
> _Uncle Percy_

***************

 To Thranduil from Tauriel:  

> _Suilad Ada,_
> 
> _I went to visit Erebor last week, and I was shocked when they told me that I had a vault of my own in the treasury from Dale!  They told me you were the one who put the gold and jewels there for me, because I am your daughter!_
> 
> _The real treasure in my heart, are your words to them.  That was the best gift I could receive, Ada **.**_
> 
> _I don’t remember when I hid in the cupboards in the kitchens.  Nor did I know you had come to get me.  I do remember, waking up with bad dreams, and you being there to hold my hand.  You seemed afraid to say too much, or maybe you didn’t know what to say, but when you sat in the chair next to my bed until I fell asleep again, I felt safe.  I knew nothing could ever hurt me, if you were near._
> 
> _Farien is looking after me, and she and Bard’s dog play in the evenings, when we get together in Bard’s study.  It makes me smile to see them, and Percy and Bard think it hilarious when the cat chases Thangon around!  You’ve helped make this winter more tolerable with these animals._
> 
> _Mil, Tauriel_

 

***************

 

To Galion from Tauriel:  

> _Suilad Galion,_
> 
> _I am keeping myself occupied as much as possible, and have visited Erebor, which I enjoyed very much._
> 
> _Much in my life, in all our lives has changed in such a short time; especially for Ada **,** and it brings me joy.  I love Bard’s children, as I know you do._
> 
> _I will never forget how much you have given me, ever since the day I was brought to the Palace.  Please know that you are every bit as important to me as Ada **.**   It was you, just as much as he that made me feel cherished and protected all of my life.  We both are grateful, and we both love you very much._
> 
> _I am glad Bard’s children are so attached to you, and I know you look forward to being as dear to them as you have always been to me._
> 
> _You have my love and devotion, no matter where life takes me._
> 
> _Mil, Tauriel_

 

***************

 

To Galion from Bard:

> _Hello Galion,_
> 
> _Thanks for the reports of my children’s schooling and behavior so far.  I honestly thought we’d have more trouble getting Bain to put his shoulder in, as far as his studies.  He is all boy, that one.  He likes to do things that boys love to do, but he’s smart.  I know I’m biased, but he has a knack for things._
> 
> _Sigrid doesn’t surprise me.  She’ll need to learn her maths in order to mix potions, and administer medicines, so I hope her prowess in that subject continues to improve.  As far as spelling, she’ll get the hang it all soon enough.  Now that she has a chance at a real education, I’ll bet she’ll surprise us all._
> 
> _We only had so many books to read in Laketown, and no real school.  I ‘m sad to say, she had to spend a great deal of time looking after her brother and sister._
> 
> _Now, I want her to use this time to catch up, and enjoy being a young girl, before it’s too late._
> 
> _I enjoy hearing how Tilda spends the afternoons with you.  She just captures you heart, doesn’t she?_
> 
> _You’ve trained Percy well.  I want to thank you formally for all the work you’ve been doing to help prepare both he and Hilda for their work here.  It’s far and above what was asked, and Dale is grateful to you._
> 
> _Alun, Rhys’s father assisted with the documents I sent, so the credit goes to him.  I was impressed too, and I think he’ll do nicely as a member of my staff and my Council, once this City gets started._
> 
> _Please look after yourself.  You are needed and very much loved._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Bard, King of Dale_

 

***************

 

To Rhys from Alun:  

> _Dearest Son,_
> 
> _I was never more relieved in all my life, to hear you’re safe, and that you’ll be staying with Prince Bain.  King Thranduil made sure we knew you were all right the very next day, and finally, finally, I could breathe, again!_
> 
> _I will always be sorry that I allowed you to be in that situation, son.  I hope you can forgive me, and not doubt my love for you, nor my desire to see you safe, at all times._
> 
> _I wish I could make a world where bad things never happened, but I can’t.  But I will do my very best to keep you from all harm for as long as I can._
> 
> _Now, that you’re with the King and his family, I want you to do something for me-- try to focus on your studies and all your lessons, and don’t worry.  Those people have no way to get near you again, and if anyone asks you what happened, just tell them to talk to King Thranduil.  It’s his job to answer questions, not yours._
> 
> _If you’re feeling bad about things, please write to me, or go see Lady Hilda, or King Thranduil.  They want to help you however they can._
> 
> _I hope to hear from you soon, my boy,_
> 
> _Your loving Da_

 

To Sigrid, Bain and Tilda from Tauriel:   

> _Greetings from Dale,_
> 
> _Did you look in the secret compartment of my room yet?  I hope there was some treasure for you to find._
> 
> _I have been busy with your Da, and working to teach the men archery.  Did I tell you, we will have a tournament in the spring?  Your Da will be the official judge._
> 
> _Your Uncle Percy has been playing pranks on everyone!  Last week, “someone” put salt in your Da’s tea, and he spit it out all over the table!  Then he went through a doorway, and water fell on his head.  I am just happy he has not been playing tricks on me.  Then again, your Uncle Percy knows how good I am with fighting knives…_
> 
> _But I am glad Percy is helping us to laugh.  We all miss our families; especially your Da and me, but thanks to Percy, he is helping us to enjoy ourselves._
> 
> _I am looking forward to more letters from you, when the supply wagon comes.  Until then, look after each other, your Aunt Hilda, Galion, and Ada **.**   Tilda, please run to him and give him a big hug, and tell him I sent it._
> 
> _Your sister and friend,_
> 
> _Tauriel_
> 
> _P.S. Bain, I am glad you wrote to me about your friend.  It was a brave thing to do.  We must always try to do what’s right for our friends, even if it means telling secrets sometimes.  I am very proud of you.  I hope Rhys enjoys his stay with you all.  His father Alun, is a good, honorable man, and your friend should be proud._

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Mae g'ovannen, Aran ni_ _̂_ _n –_ Well met, My King

 _Mae g'ovannen, Magor_ – Well met, Swordsman

 _Gi Melin, Thranduil Uireb._ – I love you, Thranduil.  Always.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhian has settled into her new apartment, and begins her new life, as she enjoys some visitors.
> 
> Letters are sent from the Woodland Realm, with reports of the court proceedings.

****

 

 **The Woodland Realm,** **24 th** **January** , **2942** , **T**. **A**.

 

Sigrid held Darryn in her arms, turned to Rhian and said, “He gets bigger every day, doesn’t he? I remember when Tilda was first born - she was so tiny.  Well, Tilda’s always been small, for her age, but his little man is so solid and big! 

Rhian had just sat down in the rocking chair in the living room of her suite, smiling at him.  “I still look at him, sometimes, and can’t believe he’s mine.”

“I love his hair.  It’s dark, just like yours.  I think he looks just like you, except his eyes are blue, and yours are green.”  Sigrid observed the sleeping infant.  Darryn was dressed in a dark blue sweater with matching socks, that the ladies from Dale had given her, among many, many other items of clothing, gifted from the Elves and the women of Dale.

His mother nodded.  “I think so, too.  I’m glad of it, really.  I would love him, no matter what, but it’s easier, because so far, he looks nothing like his father.  My mother’s eyes were that shade of blue; I hope they stay that way.”

“But regardless, Darryn will look like _himself_ , so let’s think of better things.”  Sigrid got up to put the baby in his cot, sat down on the couch next to the rocking chair.  “I’m glad you’re here; it's fun to have a friend close by."  She smiled at the older girl, as she picked up her knitting, and Rhian worked on her sewing.

~o0o~

 

> Rhian had moved into the rooms down the hall from the Royal Apartments after she was discharged from the infirmary, and an Elf named Indis had come to look after her.  She was cheerful, and patient in a quiet way, which helped the girl feel at ease with her fairly quickly. 
> 
> She still kept most people at a distance, but there were a few that she didn’t feel nervous around.  Sigrid and Daeron were among them, and the Princess made a point to stop in and see her several times a week.  Sometimes she brought little Tilda, who always enjoyed a chance to see and hold the baby, and once, they even brought their new dog, Esta.  Esta put her at ease within minutes, with her kind, calm demeanor, and her deep, dark eyes, that regarded her with kindness and patience.
> 
> Hannah had come to see her several times since she’d been here.  Since Rhian had agreed to let Hannah help her, Indis would smile and take the baby into a different room, so she and the Midwife could talk about things every three days or so.  Their sessions were often difficult and draining. 
> 
> Indis and Hannah were working together with Rhian to get her though her depression and anxiety.  When Hannah wasn’t there, Indis helped her to take care of the baby and to focus on positive activities, and to make sure she got proper rest.  It helped a great deal to have someone there to structure her days; Rhian was still so tired from the baby, and world-weary from her illness. 
> 
> As much as she loved Darryn, she still felt like she was always walking up a steep hill covered with grey grass, with a mist that showed the outline of bare trees.  She still cried quite a bit, especially during her talks with Hannah, but the midwife promised her this was a good thing.
> 
> “The only way to get around it is through it, lovey.  But I’ll be here with you; you won’t be alone, I promise you.”  The Midwife promised Rhian that, when all was said and done, she’d be better and stronger than she’d ever been.  Rhian hung on to that hope, even if some days it was only by a thread.

> Hannah had instructed her to do her best to keep busy and focus on positive things, in between their ‘talks.’  Rhian wasn’t to think of her problems day and night, but leave those things for the times when she was here, to try to balance out her life, a bit.  “Easier said than done, I know,” she said, “but all that matters is that you take deep breaths and try, all right?  Just for today.”
> 
> And Rhian was trying her best, and Indis helped a great deal with this.  She had the baby, which kept her busy; Darryn liked to nurse every three hours, so, Indis would sit and sing to her, or tell her stories, which were very interesting.  Between feedings, Rhian would either nap, or work her sewing, her knitting, or her schoolwork (Rhian was learning to read and write).  Indis would also make sure to take her out for her daily walk.
> 
> She had to wash, be dressed and get out of her rooms every day, Hannah said.  She and Indis would take the baby, and they would stroll up and down the wide corridor of the Royal Wing, while Indis kept up a cheerful chatter.  Rhian didn’t like it; it made her panicky to be out of her rooms, but Indis, always with a smile, made her go nonetheless.  They only walked for a short distance, and none of the guards tried to talk to her, but looked friendly and calm.  If Rhian happened to pass anyone else in the corridor, no one stopped her or spoke to her; they simply smiled, gave a short wave, and went on their way, to her great relief.
> 
> What Rhian didn’t know, was Hannah had met with King Thranduil and Hilda, and instructed them to do exactly this, to help her get over her fear, of leaving her home.  As time went on, Indis would be helping Rhian to stop and speak with people, but when she was ready.  To King Thranduil’s credit, he ordered the guards to pretend she wasn’t there, and said the same to the children (Tilda didn’t understand it, but promised that she would do the same, to “help Rhian feel better”).
> 
> She had a long way to go, but it was getting easier every day.

~o0o~ 

“Oh, Stars!  I dropped a stitch!”  Sigrid exclaimed.  She sighed with exasperation, and maneuvered the needles to pick it up again, “These are for Uncle Percy, and I want to get them finished before the next load of supplies go to Dale.”  She held up the blue sock, and Rhian admired it.

“Before we came here, I used to sit with the ladies in the Camp and do that.   I like it here; it’s much quieter.”

Sigrid smiled.  “I’m glad you’re feeling a little better.”  Then she put her needles down and started gathering her things.  “I wish I could stay longer, but I’ve got to do some schoolwork before dinner.  The supply wagons came a couple of hours ago, so hopefully they’ve got the letters sorted.  Did I tell you we have Bain’s friend staying with us?”

Rhian shook her head.  “I don’t think so.”

“He’s a nice boy, and Rhys and Bain have been friends for a while.  Daeron has been teaching them and some of the other boys in swordsmanship and archery, and I think Rhys is better at it than Bain,” Sigrid laughed, “but don’t tell anyone I told you that.  Bain has this idea he should be the best because he and our Da are Dragonslayers.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Anyway, Daeron is a good teacher, and I’ve heard all the boys like him.”

“He knows a lot about medicine, too.”

“I think that’s why he was assigned to us.  Ada told me he knows a lot about treating Men, because he spent a long time in Dale with King Girion, if you can believe it.” Sigrid laughed.  “He even told me he delivered a lot of our grandfathers!  I still can’t begin to grasp that one!”

Rhian’s eyes widened in amazement.  “That’s hard to take in.”

“Don’t I know it” Sigrid was finished arranging her things, and got up from the couch.  Rhian made to get up, but Sigrid waved her back down.  “Sit, sit, you’re fine.  Goodbye, Indis,” she called to the Elf in the other room.

The Elf walked into the living room, “Goodbye, My Lady.”

“Thank you for taking such care of my friend, here.” She smiled at Rhian.

“It is my pleasure, My Lady.”

A few minutes after Sigrid left, there was a knock at the door of the apartment.  Indis opened it, and Daeron stepped in, “ _Gi suilanthon, Indis!”_  

To Rhian, he grinned and said, “Greetings, Rhian! Do you have time for a visitor?”

Rhian smiled, shyly.  “Of course.  Hello…  Please, sit down.”

Daeron’s cheeks looked flushed, like he had been outside.  He went over to the cot that was set up in the living room and peered down at the sleeping infant.  “He changes so quickly, does he not?”  He smiled down at his namesake, as he brushed his fingers over the baby’s cheeks, that were filling out rapidly.  Darryn was on his back, and his mouth was making sucking motions in his sleep.

“Thank you, He’s starting to look less like a newborn, and more like a real baby.  I know that sounds silly, but…”

“No.  It is not silly.  It is exactly right.”  He sat down on the chair facing her.  “I am sorry I have not visited sooner.  My schedule is very busy, between guard duties and teaching the boys, weaponry.  I enjoy it very much; they are good children, and it is important to teach them early, so as to build a strong Army for Dale.  How have you been?” he asked her.

“I like it here, so far.  It was strange at first, but I’m getting used to it.  Indis is really nice.”

Daeron grinned.  “I think so, too.  I was hoping you would like each other.”

“You know her?”  Rhian asked.  “Really?”

“Well, I know most everyone in the Woodland Realm.  Elves are much, much older, so it gives us a chance to meet one another.  I have also spent many years traveling throughout the villages to administer aid, and care for expectant mothers.  But in this case,” he smirked “I know her, because she is my Aunt.”

“Your Aunt?  Really?  She looks so young! Like your sister!”

“I imagine it is hard to get used to; the idea that Elves don’t age, once they reach their majority.  But, it is who we are, so it is not unusual to us, at all.  Elves have difficulty sometimes understanding how the race of Men age and grow old.  I think it is just a matter of understanding each other.”

Rhian put her sewing down in her lap.  “I suppose so.  You and Indis have the same color hair and your eyes are the same, too.  I can see the resemblance.”

“My cousin Turamarth teases me, because I look more like his mother than he does, and he looks more like my own mother.”  He laughed. “It is very funny, because our mothers are identical twins!  He and I grew up together, and are more like brothers than cousins, really.”

“Where are your parents?”  Rhian asked, curious.

“My father, Adamar, is the Captain of the Gates.  He is in charge of the entrances to and from the Palace, as well as all the Guards who protect us within it.  My mother helps to oversee the kitchens here; she now works with your people to coordinate meals and other such things.  She has been delighted with the challenge of providing all the different dishes your people require for your diet.”

“What’s her name?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought I said.  Her name is Idril.”

Just at that moment, Indis came into the living area again.  He grinned, and stood up to stand beside her. _“_ I was just explaining to Rhian why I look so much like you!”

Rhian looked up at them, side by side; It was true.  The two Elves, smiling down at her, had the same long, dark auburn hair and bright green eyes.  Rhian could have sworn they were the same age, and they look so young!  She didn’t dare ask how old they were, because it would be too hard to contemplate. 

Both Elves helped her feel at ease, with so many things, and were patient and kind.  For that, Rhian was supremely grateful.  She had friends, now.  For the first time in her life, she had actual, genuine friends, and some of them were Princesses and Kings!

Hannah might be right, after all.   There might be a day, when Rhian could look outside of herself, and no longer see shades of grey and mist, but bright colors and sunshine.

 

***************

 

 **LETTERS** **FROM** **THE** **WOODLAND** **REALM**

 

* * *

 **To Bard from Thranduil:**  

 

> _To Bard, son of Brand, King of Dale:_
> 
> _Galion is sending you and Alun details about Rhys’s physical examination and treatment. I wish to emphasize that the boy is absolutely pain free, and he will bear no lasting physical evidence of his unpleasant experience._
> 
> _I wish to give you a detail report of events in my Court, regarding Ina and Iola of Dale:_
> 
> _\--They were called into the Throne Room once again.  No children were permitted to be present, per your request.  In front of them, I confirmed that they had written to you, and then your letter was presented as evidence.  This, they were not expecting, and tried to deny the authenticity of the letter.  Hilda provided several merchants from Dale who confirmed that the signature and handwriting were theirs._
> 
> _\--Galion read the entire contents of the letter out loud to the court.  Ina and Iola, once forced to admit they had written it, lost their temper, demanding deference due their “station.”_
> 
> _\--I presented the indictment and judgement that the King of Dale had pronounced and gave it to Hilda, Dale’s Senior Government Official, to read it aloud.  Your ladies wanted to plead for mercy, but I told them they must respect the authority of their own King._
> 
> _\--I presented the two servants, Lynne and Mona their documents, releasing them from service to Ina and Iola.  The defendants were not pleased, but your people here were very impressed with their King!  The girls, Lynne and Mona, aren’t yet able to read and write, and so they asked Galion to pass along their thanks to you._
> 
> _\--The defendants were taken to rooms far from the other citizens of Dale.  Unfortunately, once they had no opportunity to inflict their personalities on others, they turned their acrimony on each other.  The noise became so disruptive, that I had silencing spells placed on their rooms, out of consideration for their neighbors. They will speak to and see no one, except their guards, who will, as you requested, not speak Westron in front of them._
> 
> _Respectfully submitted,_
> 
> _Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm_

* * *

 

 

> _Bard, Meleth ni_ _̂n, enough of politics and Kinging._
> 
> _First, I would like to report that Rhys is doing well, here with us.  He is a bit melancholy at times, so the visit from his father next weeks will do him good.  In the meantime, we keep him occupied and Esta is keeping a close watch._
> 
> _Hervenn nîn, I sent you the last letter, I had a terrible nightmare.  It was about the Dragon.  It’s always about the Dragon, Bard.  After sitting in front of the fire for a long time, I sent for Galion._
> 
> _I tried to follow your advice, and talk about my dream; I have never done this, before.  It is so hard to speak of it, just as with losing Mírelen.  You and Galion are wise to teach me that darkness can no longer remain so, if it is brought to the light.  So, I talked to Galion.  I could not say much, but he and I feel it is a start._
> 
> _I understand now, why you wanted to talk about the nightmare you had, when we were together in Dale.  Bard, I am sorry, that I did not listen.  We must always be able to speak to each other, be willing to listen.  I failed you, but never again._
> 
> _There is much noise and activity in my rooms, but they are lonelier than ever, because you are not here. I especially feel your absence during the night, but I find that I yearn for your smile, your kindness and your wisdom in so many things._
> 
> _I love you, Bard.  Always._
> 
> _Thranduil_
> 
> _P.S.  I received Sigrid’s birthday gifts safely.  I am happy that Dáin had them finished in time. They are perfect for our daughter, and I will present them to her before the party._

 

 * * *

 

**From Galion to Bard:**

 

> _Greetings, Lord Bard:_
> 
> _It is my hope that this letter finds you and all in Dale well,_
> 
> _Enclosed are the signed and witnessed documents you need for your records, plus the original letter by Ina and Iola.  Also enclosed are two copies of the Healer’s report; one is for your records, and one is to be given to Alun, Rhys’s father for his use._
> 
> _The children continue with their studies.  My King continues to look after them, and spends as much time with them, and Lady Hilda as possible.  It has taken some effort to persuade Lady Hilda to get her proper rest, but, as you instructed, Tilda and the children make sure she relaxes._
> 
> _Lord Thranduil and I have given Tilda her own desk in my study, as she likes spending the afternoons with me.  She generally makes good use of my small couch for her afternoon naps, when she is not with Lady Hilda._
> 
> _For now, please be assured that your family is well._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Galion_

 

* * *

 

**To Feren from Glélindë:**

 

> _Meleth nîn,_
> 
> _I love being a mother.  I especially love to brush out their curly hair, after their baths.  Our girls are just so beautiful!!_
> 
> _Gruffudd seems happy with us, and we are becoming good friends.  I purchased a comfortable chair for him to sit by the fire, with a stool to put his leg up on.  Our Healers will eventually try to give him something to wear on his stump, but they must wait until the beginning of next summer._
> 
> _In the meantime, he is very happy, to sit with us in the evenings, smoking his pipe, and we tell each other stories of our lives, and our history.  I have never known much about the race of Men, nor has Gruffudd known of Elves, either, so we enjoy this time._
> 
> _We’ve had some snow, but not much.  On days when the weather is a bit better, I take the girls out for short walks to see the animals in the barn.  They enjoy it, but are still a bit shy about petting them._
> 
> _I think of you always, and feel you in my heart.  I may not see you, but you are there, our fëas are one as they have always been.  Ci velethron e-guil nîn, Feren._
> 
> _Glélindë_

 

* * *

 

**To Bard from Bain:**

 

> _Da!_
> 
> _I like having Rhys living with us!  I asked Sig and Til if they would mind if Rhys stayed with us, and they said okay and then we asked Auntie Hill, then she said okay._
> 
> _He was really mad at me, at first, because I wrote to Tauriel.  I didn’t mean to keep it secret from you, Da.  It’s just that I promised him.  I’m glad Tauriel told you about it – it was a relief!_
> 
> _He was really nervous, when Thranduil asked to see him, though. He didn’t want to get anyone in trouble.  I know Thranduil can be really scary to folks he doesn’t like, but he was very nice, then.  Bronwyn was there, too, and they asked me to sit with Rhys, so he wouldn’t get upset.  Esta was there too._
> 
> _Anyways, Rhys finally told the truth about his grandma, and Thranduil took him to the Healer’s.  He has to take baths with a special oil and there is a salve that has to be put on him.  I don’t know much about it, because Rhys does it by himself, except for his back and Thranduil does that, and they won’t let anyone see.  But he feels better, so it doesn’t matter._
> 
> _He likes it with us. He likes to read more than I do, and Thranduil showed him the library, and told him if he wanted a book, to just ask the librarian there and she will get it for him._
> 
> _I hope you don’t mind him staying with us.  He really misses his Da, and I didn’t want him with strangers._
> 
> _I have to go.  It’s time for sword practice.  Which I’m doing good at, by the way._
> 
> _Oh, and I almost forgot!  I got to see Thranduil practice!  He is SO fast!  If he wasn’t in the practice ring, Da, he’d be really scary, he is that good!_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Bain_

* * *

**To Bard from Sigrid:**

 

> _Dear Da,_
> 
> _Here are the socks for Uncle Percy.  I also made you a scarf out of the same color yarn.  How are yours holding up?_
> 
> _Bain’s happier having another boy around, and please tell Rhys’s Da that he seems to really like it here. Esta makes a point to snuggle with Rhys, to make sure he feels better.  I can’t wait till you meet this dog, Da!  I’ve never seen anything so smart in all my life!_
> 
> _Rhian is resting up, and seems to be settling down.  She’s still shy, but she loves her baby.  He’s so sweet – I love to go and see them.  The Elf that is staying with Rhian is actually Daeron’s Aunt, and her name is Indis.  She’s lovely and the perfect person for her.  I like to visit them several times a week, and help with baby Darryn.  He’s so cute, Da!  I can’t wait till you see him!_
> 
> _Oh, Da, my birthday is next week, and it’s the first one without you!  I try so hard to keep busy, and I do.  But I miss you so much.  I cried the other night, after everyone was asleep, and Esta came in and tried to comfort me.  I know it makes me a big baby, but I couldn’t help it.  Ada couldn’t be more wonderful, but, he’s just not you, Da._
> 
> _Ada misses you too, but Tilda and I try to keep Ada occupied with telling us stories and drawing.  He’s made some wonderful pictures of animals, and parts of the forest the way it used to be, before the forest got sick.  I like it. I told him he should put them together to make a book someday!_
> 
> _Love from your daughter,_
> 
> _Sigrid_

* * *

**To Bard from Tilda,**

 

> _~~Deer~~ Dear Da,_
> 
> _Galion tells me to ~~rite~~ write this so with the words ~~speled~~ spelled ~~write~~ right. It is hard! _
> 
> _He is ~~nise~~ nice.  He is my ~~freind~~ ~~fiend~~ friend.  I petted the elks again.  They do not bite.  Do not ~~wory~~ worry. Ada will not let ~~anyting~~ anything bad hapen! Here is ~~anoter~~ another ~~pixture~~ picture of Ada.  _
> 
> _I love you.  I like Rhys.  He is Bains friend._
> 
> _I got a desk._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Tilda_
> 
> _Your ~~dawter~~ Beenie_

 

* * *

 

**To Bard from Hilda:**

 

> _Dear Bard,_
> 
> _Yes, before you ask, I am resting.  As much as I hate to admit it, I do feel better._
> 
> _Tilda’s had a bad nightmare last week, and for a few days, she was very quiet and stuck to us like glue.  She needed to be cuddled a lot, which Galion and Thranduil were happy to do, and she seems better now._
> 
> _Can you believe they even cheered her up by giving her a little desk in his office, and she sits there, feeling all busy and important.  It’s just her size and so that she can sit right next to Galion, and there are little places for paper and ink pots.  I’ll tell Thranduil to draw a picture of her sitting with it.  It’s cute._
> 
> _Since Rhys got here Esta has been sticking to him like glue!  She’s really helped the boy adjust; please make sure his Da knows that._
> 
> _Rhian seems to be doing well.  Hannah’s working with her closely, and makes sure she gets out of her rooms every day, whether she wants to or not.  She feels comfortable with Indis, the Elf that’s staying with her.  Apparently, she’s Daeron’s Aunt.  I’ve been to see her a couple of times, and I tell you, little Darryn is a friendly, happy baby._
> 
> _How is my Percy doing?  Is he still pulling those crazy pranks?  That man!  Serves him right to have to shovel out the barn._
> 
> _Don’t worry love, the weeks are passing by and we’ll be back sooner than you think.  You just keep making your Bard, and Percy and me proud._
> 
> _Love to all in Dale,_
> 
> _Hil_

 

* * *

 

 **To Percy from Sigrid, Bain and Tilda:**  

 

> _Hi Uncle Percy,_
> 
> _It’s your Sea Monsters, here.  We’ve been doing good. Rhys lives with us, and it’s worked out fine.  I think Bain likes not being outnumbered by girls anymore! Ha Ha._
> 
> _Don’t worry, we’re making sure Auntie Hil gets her rest.  She’s gone with me a couple of times to see Rhian and now that this whole business with Rhys’s grandma has been dealt with, things are much more peaceful._
> 
> _We love you very much, and look after Da and Tauriel and all the rest of the people there._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Sigrid_

* * *

 

 

> _Uncle Percy!_
> 
> _We do a lot with our sword work and Rhys is better than me at archery!  He loves his room with us.  Esta used to sleep with me, but when Rhys came, she went with him, because he was upset.  I don’t mind.  I think she wants to take care of him, and she is making him feel better._
> 
> _I am looking after my sisters like you want.  Tilda hasn’t had any more bad dreams, but I think Sigrid is.  I heard her crying the other night. I was afraid to ask why, but I think she might have had a bad dream or something._
> 
> _I can’t wait to see how you fixed up Dale.  Are you guys going to fix that carousel in the Market?_
> 
> _Can’t wait to see you again._
> 
> _Bain_

* * *

 

 

> _Deer Uncle Percy,_
> 
> _Uncle Galion told me he likes it that ~~yoo~~ you call me ~~Litle~~ Little Bean.  I like him.  He is ~~nise~~ nice.  I am ~~suposd~~ supposed to try to spell ~~gooder~~ better._
> 
> _I have my own dest!  I am his ~~assitent~~ ade he told me.  But I ~~hav~~ to have to ~~pracis~~ practice my spelling.  It is hard! Do ~~yoo~~ think my letters are better?  I ~~hoop~~ hope so, but drawing  Pitures are funner._
> 
> _I love yoo,_
> 
> _Your little Been (really Tilda)_
> 
> _PS ~~Heer~~ Here is piture one of Esta are dawg.  She is ~~blak~~ black and white and nice._

 

* * *

 

**To Tauriel from Thranduil:**

 

> _Suilad_   _Gwinïg_ ,
> 
> _With regards to your inheritance, Iellig, the honor is mine.  You are a daughter of Kings, Tauriel, and you have only received that which you deserve._
> 
> _I think, if the Queen had not died, she would have taken you for our own, just as Galion and I did.  Someday, you will meet her in Valinor, and I know she will embrace you with love and tenderness.  I also look forward to meeting your birth parents in Valinor, and sharing with them the many stories of your childhood with us._
> 
> _When we spoke of your birth parents, it occurred to me that perhaps some in the villages surrounding yours might have made your parent’s acquaintance.  I shall make inquiries, because I am interested to know more, as well.  I know your father’s name was Neldor and your mother’s name was_ _Soliania, and I would meet everyone from that village while during my Autumn Tour._
> 
> _I recall them with you as an infant.  Your mother had the same color hair as you do, now, and you look like your father around the eyes.  They seemed a happy couple and clearly loved you very much.  I did not have much of a chance to make further acquaintance, as the village leader, Tasar carried out his duties with skill and excellence and there was very little need for me to intervene in many matters there._
> 
> _Gwinïg, our parents loved you enough to protect you, even at the cost of their own lives.  Your parents’ bravery reminded me of Legolas’s mother, who also gave her life to protect her child.  Someday I will tell you about it, but not now, Iellig; and tell you more about her._
> 
> _I remember the first moment I met you:  You were terrified and crying when the Guard placed you in my arms, and you suddenly stopped when you looked at me.  Something about your calm, trusting eyes pierced my heart.  The next thing I knew, I had you in front of me, wrapped in my cloak, as we were riding back to the Palace._
> 
> _Since then, Tauriel, you have enriched our lives; with your laughter, your little pranks, and then with your dedicated service to our people._
> 
> _Much love to you and Farien.  I look forward to seeing you soon._
> 
> _Mil, Ada_
> 
> _P.S.  Tilda just came in and said something about a secret compartment in your room, and she gave me a picture you drew for me when you were small.  Gwinïg, it broke my heart to think this is what you saw when you were so little.  I can only say, again, how glad I am that we are closer._

 

* * *

 

 **To Brandir, Ruler of Dorwinian, from Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm:**   

 

> _Greetings Lord Brandir,_
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you and your people well during this harsh winter._
> 
> _As you know, Bard, formerly of Laketown, has been made King of Dale, as he is the legitimate heir of Girion.  For now, Dale is under my protection, and is also being aided by Erebor, in hopes that the Three Northern Kingdoms shall unite in strength against the fiercest of enemies. It is our further hope that all these efforts might benefit your land, with additional protection and aid from the North, should the need arise._
> 
> _On a more personal note, as I am sure you have already heard, Bard has recently become my Consort, and I have become his, during a private ceremony held in Dale last month.  At this time, I am hosting the women, children and other vulnerable folk from Dale, to help them avoid the harsh winter temperatures._
> 
> _If you would be so kind as to grant me a personal request, I would be in your debt.  I have learned that Bard’s late wife, Matilda, daughter of Bain, was from your area.  I am hoping to locate some of Matilda’s extended family to might possess a painting or a likeness of her._
> 
> _If you could locate such an item, I beg you to allow me to borrow it for a brief time, so we can make copies for her children to keep.  The older children, remember her and miss her very much, but our youngest, who is just seven years of age, has no memory of her dear mother, and we would like her to see and honor the woman who sacrificed all to bring her into this world._
> 
> _Everything I have heard about Matilda, shows that she was a woman of virtue, quality and strength, and I have been told her father, Bain was an honorable and good man._
> 
> _I thank you for your kind attention in this matter, and look forward to more of your excellent wines in the years to come._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Thranduil, Son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm_

 

* * *

 

 **To Alun of Dale from his son, Rhys:**  

 

> _Dear Da:_
> 
> _I don’t live with Grandma and Aunt Iona anymore.  I am sorry they caused so much trouble for everybody.  I feel bad.  But King Thranduil told me that it wasn’t my fault and I shouldn’t worry about it.  I’m trying not to, but it’s hard sometimes.  I don’t see them anymore, nobody does.  I hope they’re not hurt or anything.  But Lady Hilda promises me they are not hurt._
> 
> _I am living with Bain and his sisters, and I like it.  They are fun, and their dog likes me a lot, too, and wants to always lick my face.  And we spend time with the King and Lady Hilda in the evenings.  They are both very nice._
> 
> _I’m doing good in school, I’m even learning Sindarin.  The archery is going good too.  I’m better than Bain, but not for long.  I like reading the books that Lord Galion picks out for me from the King’s library.  You should see it, Dad!  I’ve never seen so many books ever!_
> 
> _I can’t wait for you to visit, so I can show you all over the Palace, and the barracks and the barns.  I know Dale will be great, but this is so different, and I like it very much.  I hope we’ll have books like that someday, in our house, like we used to._
> 
> _I feel much better, Dad.  I was mad at Bain for telling on me, but now I’m not. He really helped me, and he is my best friend._
> 
> _I can’t wait to see you, Da!_
> 
> _Your loving son,_
> 
> _Rhys_

 

* * *

 **To Alun of Dale, from Thranduil:**  

 

> _Greetings, Alun, son of Alwyn, of Dale:_
> 
> _I am honored that you would entrust the welfare of your son to me, and I vow to do my utmost to see him as safe and happy as I can._
> 
> _I spoke with your son as soon as I received your custody papers, and upon interviewing the boy, Lady Bronwyn and I took him to see our Healer-in-Residence, Elénaril.  I am sorry to say, he had bruises and marks all over his back, buttocks, and the upper part of his legs, as well as one of his upper arms. We discovered no evidence of any other injuries._
> 
> _You will be relieved to know your son is now comfortable.  The details of Rhys’s examination and treatment plan are enclosed, and he should be finished with his prescribed course of treatment within two days._
> 
> _So far, your son’s overall spirits seem to be good, but I am watching for signs of emotional distress, and will do my best to help with that, should the need arise.  I know he is looking forward to your visit, and I am glad you are able to make the trip._
> 
> _I am sorry to have to report such difficult news, regarding the extent of your son’s abuse, but please know that everything is being done to ensure his safety and well-being._
> 
> _Should you have further concerns, or have information that might assist me in taking care of your son, please feel free to write me, and I shall see it done._
> 
> _I thank you for the privilege of caring for your son._
> 
> _Thranduil, Son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm_

* * *

 

 **To Tauriel from Sigrid:**  

 

> _Dear Tauriel,_
> 
> _Don’t worry, we are giving Uncle Galion plenty of hugs, especially Tilda.  You can tell he loves it.  And she always makes sure to kiss him on the cheek when she leaves his study, and calls him Uncle. Galion smiles all the time now!  I think he’s going to be sad when we leave here._
> 
> _We found that secret hiding place you were telling us about.  It wasn’t empty.  There were some really pretty stones, a small book written in Tengwar, and a book that looks like some sort of diary.  There wasn’t much written in it, and anyway it’s also in Tengwar, so don’t worry about us reading it, because we don’t understand it at all.  There was a picture of Ada, with a tear on his face, and you giving him a flower.  Was he really that sad, all the time?_
> 
> _I’m sorry to tell you that Tilda gave Ada the picture before I could tell her not to.  Oh, Tauriel, you should have seen his face!  Tilda thought she upset him, and but he made himself cheer up, to make her feel better._
> 
> _He misses you a lot.  I know he misses Legolas, too.  He doesn’t say why Legolas isn’t here anymore, and neither do you, so I won’t ask.  Whatever it is, I hope things get better.  We’re all one family and I want us to be happy._
> 
> _Love from your sister,_
> 
> _Sigrid_
> 
> _P.S. I am sending your diary to Dale, so you can have it._

* * *

 

 **To Tauriel from Bain:**  

 

> _Tauriel!_
> 
> _I’m playing a lot of Stratagem with Rhys, so I will be able to play you when we come home.  I’m getting really good at archery.  At least I think so.  I don’t want to upset Da, but I think I like the sword better! Rhys and I spar a little bit.  He’s living with us now!  Thranduil and Auntie Hil got him right out of there and he’s doing so much better, thanks to you, I know.  And don’t worry.  Rhys didn’t stay mad for long.  Now he’s glad I told and we are best friends._
> 
> _I have to practice writing and spelling a lot, Galion says so too.  He says I’m a good speller but my writing is awful, so there’s this book about Dale and all its Kings, so I have to copy three pages of that every day.  At first, I hated it, but I like the book, now.  It’s good to know what happened before in Dale.  And these were all my grandfathers!_
> 
> _Keep looking after Da, Uncle Percy and everybody else.  I saw Feren’s wife with those two little girls they adopted, and they look really happy, especially Old Gruffudd._
> 
> _Your brother,_
> 
> _Bain_

 

* * *

 

 **To Tauriel from Tilda:**  

 

> _Dear Tarriel,_
> 
> _I am good.  Sigrid is helping me ~~wit~~ with my letter ~~becawse~~ Galion and Ada have a ~~meetig~~ meeting.  I am trying to spell words ~~rite~~ right, like Uncle Galion wants me ~~too~~ to._
> 
> _I am ~~sowry~~ sorry I made Ada sad.  I gave him your ~~pixture~~ picture about a ~~flowr~~ flower.  _
> 
> _~~Pleez~~ Please do not be mad.  He says I dident do wrong and so does Sigrid.  And I gave him a hug ~~sayed~~ said it was from you.  He huged me back real hard._

_Love your little sister,_

_Tilda_

* * *

 

 **To Percy from Hilda:**  

 

> _Hello my husband,_
> 
> _Well, we did it.  Those bitches are locked up and they have no chance to spread that horrible poison anymore.  I must tell you, once those two were removed from the rest of the people in Dale, EVERYBODY felt better.  It’s like a cloud was lifted!_
> 
> _Most of my days consist of meeting with the new families and checking their progress.  Thranduil’s little assignment for Tilda, to have her listen to the children, was the smartest thing he could have done, and I’ll tell you why:_
> 
> _That family of five that I was speaking to you about before?  Remember, the oldest was almost seventeen?  I would never had known it, had their youngest not mentioned to Tilda that her big sister is angry at the whole situation.  Our Little Bean did as she was asked and went straight to the King, so we could fix it._
> 
> _Bronwyn, Galion and I went to the adoptive parents and the oldest girl.  Seems she resents them a little and was afraid they’re trying to take over the younger ones.  Galion has a way of getting down to the truth of things, when he speaks to people, and he’s good at soothing hard tempers.  (He must have had a lot of practice with Thranduil, but don’t tell anyone I told you that!)_
> 
> _Seems the mother died in the fires, and their father was killed in the Battle.  That morning before you all went to the field in front of Erebor, he made her promise to take care of the younger ones.  Galion thinks that promise was what kept her going when we were in the camp, and she has a hard time letting that go.  She thought she was failing her Da if she didn’t do it by herself.  That poor girl; she was a right mess._
> 
> _For the next few weeks, we are all going to meet to help her work through it.  Once the girl feels better about things, then all will be well, I think._
> 
> _I’m getting a lot of knitting done.  Sigrid showed me the pair of socks she made you, and here is a pair from me._
> 
> _With much love,_
> 
> _Your Hilda_

 

* * *

 

 **To Bard, King of Dale, from Mona and Lynne:**  

 

> _Dear King Bard,_
> 
> _Thank you for your kindness in releasing us from Ina and Iola’s service officially.  They had been trying to make us come back to work for them, saying we had four more years, but me and Mona decided that we could make our own future, just like everybody else here._
> 
> _King Thranduil himself, and they gave us the papers you made for us, and they were very kind.  The King and Lady Hilda promised us we were free, and all we had to worry about was to try and learn to read and write and learn weaving like we planned to._
> 
> _We are asking Bronwyn to write this for us, because we wanted to make sure to say thank you.  You’re a good King._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _X  Mona’s Mark_
> 
> _X  Lynne’s Mark_

 

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Gi suilanthon, Indis_ – I give greetings to you, Indis

 _Gwinïg_ – “Little fingers” a pet name for Tauriel when she was a baby, because she got into everything.

 _Dagornaw_ – Chess.  In Westron it’s called “Stratagem”

 _Meleth ni_ _̂n_ \- my love

 _Ci velethron e-guil nîn_ – You are the love of my life

 _Hervenn nîn_ – my husband

 _Gwini_ _̈g_ – “Little Fingers” A nickname he and Galion used to call her because Tauriel got into things.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Woodland Realm gets a visitor, which makes a certain young boy very happy.
> 
> Thanks to our faithful nursemaid, Esta, Thranduil and Bain have a chance to help each other, in unexpected ways.
> 
> Letters arrive this week from Dale, and Bard congratulates Tilda on her new "Job."

 

 

 **The** **Woodland** **Realm** , **26 th** **of** **January** , **2942** , **T**. **A**.

Thranduil stuck his head in the door of his chambers, to find everyone sitting down for lunch. 

“Good afternoon, children, how was school?”

“Pretty good.” Sigrid said.  “I’ve got to work more on maths, though.  I’ll do it this afternoon after our riding lesson.”

Tilda grinned.  “Oh, goodie!  We get to ride the horses today!”  She clapped her hands and asked Galion, “Can we get some carrots to take with us?”

Galion was pouring out the milk for the children.  “I’ll send for some.  Have you learned to clean your saddles and bridles?”

Bain looked at Rhys and shrugged, “It’s not so bad, really.  Falarion says the same thing Thranduil always says: taking care of our equipment can save our lives someday.”

“I don’t mind it, so much, either,” Rhys added.  “I like the smell of the oil and soap.”

Thranduil gave the blonde boy a smug smile. “Well, I am afraid, Rhys, that you might miss your riding lesson today.”

“Why? Am I in trouble?”  Rhys looked stricken. 

"You are not, but you might be somewhat busy."  Thranduil opened the door all the way, and entered the room, followed by Alun, Rhys’s father, who had just arrived with the wagons.

_“DA!”_

Instantly, the boy was out of his chair and into his father’s arms.  Father and son held each other tight for many minutes, as the others looked on with a smile. 

“I missed you so much,” Rhys whispered into his Da’s shirt.  “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Aye, so am I.  Had to come and see this Palace, and what all the fuss was about, yeah?” Alun smiled down at his son, and tousled his hair.  The man was smiling, but his voice was hoarse.  “I’ve missed you, son.”

Rhys hugged him again.  “I’ve missed you more, Da.  I like it here, a lot, but I’d rather be with you.”

“Oh, my boy…”  Alun rested his chin the top of the boy’s head. 

Once father and son had gained their composure, Thranduil asked Galion to set another place for Alun, and Bain moved his place over, so they could sit together.

“Alun, Galion has set up rooms for you next to his apartment here in this wing.  Rhys, I imagine you would like to stay with your father, while he is here?”

The boy grinned and nodded.  “Aye, My Lord.  But first, Da, I gotta show you my room!  Did you see Esta?”

“No, not yet,” Alun said, just as the dog in question came over and put head on the man’s knee.  He reached down to pet her, saying, “Hello there, Esta.  Pleased to meet you!”  As he scratched behind her ear, he turned back to his son, “So, you’re learning to ride?  I’d like to see that, Rhys.”

“That’s great!  Then after, we can take you around and show you everything!”

Thranduil was enjoying the reunion.  “It is perfectly permissible to observe their lesson, Alun. There is seating in the arena where they practice, so you will be out of the way.  I am hoping to stop in myself, if my meeting ends on time.” 

After a merry lunch, they departed for the barns, while Thranduil reluctantly went back to work. He did manage to stop in and observe the group later, as Falarion had the children trot around the arena, coaching them on their posture, and technique.  He was taken aback to see his _Tithen Pen_ sit so fearlessly astride her grey mare.  He had feared she would be timid and skittish, as she was with so many things, but there she was, with a wide grin on her face, with the stirrups adjusted as high as they could go, to accommodate her short little legs.  Tilda saw him, as she rode around to his side of the arena, and waved.  He shook his head and laughed, as he waved back.

He’d have that child astride an Elk, if it was the last thing he did, although he was sure her Da wouldn't be happy about it.

 

That night, Esta came running into his room, whining, and barking.  He shot out of bed and grabbed his robe, running as he fastened it, as he followed Esta into Bain’s room.  At the same time the night guard ran in from the hall entrance, her hand on the hilt of her sword.  

The Elvenking found the boy thrashing and crying in his sleep, so he sat down on the bed and shook the boy slightly.

“Bain, Bain!  _Echuio!_ Wake up, now.  You must wake up.”  He looked over his shoulder and saw Sigrid and Tilda in the doorway to Bain’s room.  Sigrid looked concerned, and Tilda had started to cry.  Esta whined and went to Tilda and started licking her hand.

“Bain is just dreaming, and I will take care of him, so please do not worry.  Sigrid, could you please look after your sister, and I will be in to see you when I am finished?”

“Can I help, Sire?” the guard asked.

“No, thank you.  Please return to your duties.”  He said to the guard, who went back outside, gently closing the door behind him.

“Come now, Bain.”  He said softly, to the weeping boy.  “All is well; please wake up.  All is well; and you are very safe.  Do you understand?  You are safe.”

Bain, finally seemed to gain awareness, and looked at Thranduil. 

Thranduil asked him.  “Do you know where you are, _Ion ni_ _n?”_ As he brushed sweat-soaked hair out of Bain’s eyes. 

“I’m in your Palace.  In Legolas’s bed.”  And the boy’s lips trembled.  “And you’re taking care of us, because my Da…”  The boy started to cry in earnest.  Thranduil pulled Bain into his arms, and rubbed his back, soothing him with some words in Sindarin and Westron, letting him cry it out.

At last, Bain calmed down, then wiped his face.  “I’m sorry.  This is so stupid.”  He told the Elvenking, with tear-filled eyes. 

Thranduil stroked his hair.  “No, Bain, it is not stupid.  You must never think that.”  He looked into the boy’s face.

“Will you be all right for just a moment?  I need to speak with your sisters, and I will get you something to wash your face, all right?” 

Esta jumped on the bed, and nestled her head on the boy’s thigh; ready to stand guard. At Bain’s nod, Thranduil went into Sigrid and Tilda’s room.  The little one was sitting with Sigrid on her older sister’s bed, sniffling.

“Come now, _Tithen pen_ , it is all right.  Bain had a bad dream, like you have sometimes.”  He sat down on the bed, while Tilda crawled into his lap, and hugged him very tight. 

“It scared me, when he yelled."  She said in a very thin voice.

“I know it did, but, are you not glad I look after you, when you get frightened?"  He felt her nod into his shoulder.  “Now, I must care for your brother.”

“Is Bain scared too?”

“Yes, _hênig_ , so I must go speak with him to make him feel better.  Can you go back to sleep?”  He rubbed her back.

“I don’t know, _Ada.”_   She was still shaking and sniffling.

“If your sister will let you lie down with her for a while, I can go to Bain, yes? When I am finished, I will come back in to see you.  Will you be all right until then?”  He looked over Tilda’s shoulder at Sigrid, who nodded her head, and held out her arms.

“All right.  I’ll try.  But if I’m not asleep, come and get me.”

He kissed her hair.  “I promise.”  He settled the girls down, made sure that Tilda had both Charlotte and Daisy, then left the door open a crack. 

He went into the children’s bathing chamber, and soaked one end of a small towel in water, then brought it back to Bain, so he could soothe his swollen face and wipe his eyes.  When he was finished, Thranduil set it on the table beside the bed and smiled down at him.  “Better?”

“Aye.  Thanks.”  The boy sniffed a little. 

“Can you tell me what you dreamed about, Bain?” Thrandiul asked, still rubbing his arm.

“About Laketown, and… Smaug.”  Bain’s eyes filled.  “I hate these dreams.  They scare me to death.”

“Of course, they do, _Ion ni_ _̂n_.  Very few people have faced a Dragon.  Your Da has such dreams, as well."

“He told me that.  When we were at Erebor, and I saw all those claw marks in the stone, they turned my stomach.  Da told me I should try to talk to someone, if I have bad dreams.”

“Your Da is a wise man.” 

The young boy was unaware of the conflict quickly rising in the Elvenking.  This was a difficult subject; one that he was only beginning to share with Galion.  He looked down at Bain again, thoughtfully, and marshalled his courage.  

“Do you wish to speak of it with me?” He asked Bain, who nodded.

“We were all in the boat, with Tauriel and the Dwarves, and I looked up and saw Da in the Bell Tower, trying to kill the Dragon.  Then I remembered the Black Arrow Da told me to hide.  I was the only one who knew where the Arrow was.”

“Is this your dream, or did this really happen?”

“Both.  I jumped out of the boat, got the arrow, and climbed up the tower, where Da had just shot the last Arrow he had.  He saw me, and yelled at me for not leaving.  But I had to help him!  Otherwise he’d die!”

“You are right, _Ion ni_ _̂n;_ if you had not done this, he would have died. Can you tell me what happened next?”

“Well, the dragon hit the tower and I almost fell off.  I was only holding on with one hand, and I couldn’t let go of the Arrow.  Da dragged me up again, and put me down, and grabbed Arrow from me, and the Dragon talked to him….”

Thranduil’s eyes grew wide, his own distress momentarily forgotten, as he pictured his brave husband, and his equally brave son.  “Smaug spoke to your Da?  And this all actually happened?”

Bain nodded.  “He threatened Da and said he was going to kill me.”  Bain gave Thranduil a small, wry smile.  “That was stupid.  He thought he’d scare Da, but it just made him really mad!  He started swearing – my Da swears a lot when he gets mad.”

 “I am aware of your father’s colorful use of language.” Thranduil smiled.  “Please go on.”

“Da jammed the two pieces of the bow into some holes where the railings used to be, and restrung it -”

“Just a moment.  Are you telling me that your Da shot that Black Arrow with a _broken bow_?”

Bain, feeling a bit better, smiled.  “Aye!  That’s why he needed me to stand in front of him and use my shoulder…”

“Your shoulder?”

Bain nodded.  “I had to help him steady the Arrow, so he could aim it.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened in surprise.  “What happened then, Bain?”

“The dragon came closer, and I got really scared.  I turned around to see, but Da told me not to look.  He said to only look at his face, so I did. Then Da saw the missing scale!  I had to move a little bit here and there to get the angle right, but then he let it go, and it went right into its heart!”

Thranduil sat back, and ran his hand over his face.  This was not something Bard had ever told him.  Then again, he had never asked the Bowman exactly what happened that night.  “You and your father showed much courage.”

“I have a scar, wanna see?”  Bain unbuttoned his pajama top and showed Thranduil the thin line running across his chest.

 _“Ai!”_ Thranduil said when he saw it. “Does it hurt you?”

“Nuh-uh,” Bain shook his head. “And I didn’t feel brave at all; I was really scared.  And Da must’ve been afraid, but he was furious, because that thing wanted to kill me.”

“Few things anger a parent more, than when his children are threatened.  Someday, Bain, when you have children of your own, you will see.   A good parent does not tolerate this, and Bard is the best parent I have ever seen.  He was very smart, too.  Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because your father used that anger and fear to his advantage.  He used it to give him the courage and make him stronger.  Many, many people do not do that, and they do foolish things.  That is certainly something to think about, is it not?”

Bain considered this, blowing his nose again. 

“Is that all that happened in your dream, Bain?”

“No.  I dreamed that when I almost fell off the tower, I really fell, and I saw the Dragon kill my Da.”  Bain’s face was stricken.  “It felt so real…”

“Dreams like that always are.  And they are difficult to wake from.  Your Da is right to tell you to speak about it.  I did not know this, until I met him.”

“You, too?”  Bain’s eyes seem disbelieving.  “I mean, you’re this great warrior and all…”

“I may be a great warrior, as you say, but I, too, have haunting dreams.  I have for a very long time, and I once thought like you did, Bain.”

“Really?  I saw you for a little bit in the Battle, and you were fearless!”

“No, Bain.  I was not without fear.  In fact, may I tell you something that your sisters do not know?  I have spoken of this with your father, but I think you, too, deserve to know.”

Bain looked at him, and nodded his head, solemnly.  “I promise I won’t tell anybody.  Not even Da, if you don’t want me to.”

“I believe you.  You are your father’s son, and a excellent boy in your own right.  What I want to tell you is this:  I, too have –“  Thranduil took a deep breath. “Bain, you, your Da, and me are the only persons alive on Middle Earth today, who know what it is like to face, and kill a Dragon.”

Bain’s mouth gaped, his eyes bugging out.  “YOU!” he squealed loudly.  After Thranduil shushed him, Bain whispered, “I mean, _you?_   When?”

“A very, very long time ago, during a terrible War. I cannot speak of the details, I am sorry. I still struggle with the memories of it.  I simply wish for you to know, you are not alone in things like this.  When you spoke of how your Da’s anger helped him protect you, it is that same anger that I felt, trying to protect and save my people.”

Bain’s eyes were still wide, still trying to let it sink in. 

Thranduil stroked Bain’s hair again.  “I am sorry you had a nightmare.  But I am glad you trusted me enough to tell me about it.”  He smiled at the boy who was looking at him in a new light, with a face so like his husband.  “I am also glad I could talk to you about my experience, as well.  After thousands of years, I am learning to be brave, like you and your Da.” 

Bain reached out to hug the Elvenking, “I’m sorry for what you went through, but I’m glad you told me.  I felt like no one would understand, except Da, and he’s not here.  I didn’t feel like I couldn’t say anything.”

Thranduil rested his cheek on top of the boy’s head.  “You can always, always come and talk to me, if you need to.  Even if you think I will not understand, I promise I will listen and try to help you.  Never keep things bottled up, like a certain very grumpy Elvenking did.”  He smiled.

“You’re not grumpy.  Well, you were kind of mean, but not anymore, you’re not. I mean –“  Bain pulled back and looked at him, awkwardly.

Thranduil chuckled quietly.  “No, you are right, Bain.  I was _very_ grumpy.  But then, some things happened to change that.  Hard things, but I am glad they did.  Then I met your father, who saw right through my bad temper, and didn’t let it stop him.  And now, we are married, and we are a family, are we not?”

“I’m glad you married Da.  He’s happy, and so are you.  I miss him, though.”

“Oh, Bain, I miss him, too."  Thranduil ruffled Bains's hair.

"Will I always have terrible dreams?"

"Only time will tell, Bain.  Dragons are evil creatures, and no one who encounters such things walks away unscathed, in some way.  It is my hope that, in time, the severity of these dreams will lessen, for all three of us."

"We Dragonslayers have to stick together, don't we?"

Thranduil laughed a little.   "We do. But we will keep very busy and the time will pass before we know it.  Soon, we will all be together again.  Do you feel like you could go back to sleep, now?”

“Aye.  I feel a lot better.  Thanks for coming, and talking to me.”  Bain settled down on the pillow.

“Of course, _Ion ni_ _̂n_.  I will always come to help you,” Thranduil pulled his covers over him.

“What does _‘Ion ni_ _̂n’_ mean?” Bain asked.

Thranduil stood, and smiled down at him.  “It means ‘My son.’”

Bain smiled, before he turned over to face the wall, closing his eyes.  “I like that. Good night, _Ada_.”

 

Thranduil’s wide grin followed him out of Bain’s bedroom door, into the girls’ room, to make sure they were all right – they were both sound asleep.  He very gently took Tilda and laid her down on her own bed, and covered her up, kissing her brow.  He grinned when he tiptoed back over to Sigrid, making sure she was warm, and gave her a kiss on her hair. 

He grinned all the way back to his own chambers, where he settled back into bed, and stared at his ceiling of stars, his hands tucked behind his head. 

Bain had called him _Ada,_ like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

He had talked to the boy about the dragon he killed, and it hadn’t crippled him.

And all this had happened while he was sitting on the bed he and Mírelen had once shared, and it hadn’t upset him.

He couldn’t wait to tell Galion and Bard.

 

***************

 

**LETTERS FROM DALE**

 

* * *

 

 **To** **Thranduil** **from** **Bard** :

 

> _Hello love,_
> 
> _So glad to get the box of letters and reports; we’re all relieved to hear how well Rhys is doing!_
> 
> _As you can see, I’ve sent Alun to you and Rhys for a visit.  He needs to see his boy, and I don’t blame him.  If it were me, I’d walk there, if I had to, if one of my kids had been hurt!  See if Galion can put him in Hilda’s spare room, and send him back with the next supply wagon._
> 
> _I’m not surprised the kids wanted to put the boy in their apartment.  Like Rhian, he needs to feel safe, and being with the children in a heavily guarded Royal wing will help.  You were kind to do this, but that doesn’t surprise me._
> 
> _Now, back to some unpleasant business.  With regards to Ina and Iola, I’m not sure what to do with them, when they come back.  Frankly, I don’t want them in Dale, as their mouths would do more harm than good, but I don’t want to be that sort of King – one that discredits and banishes any who disagree with him.  To my mind that is just being weak.  From the letter they originally wrote, I see that their own father was abusive, and perhaps they have been denied the opportunity that Alun had given to his son.  They are angry, unhappy ladies, yes, but remember how we spoke about how deep unhappiness can make someone behave like that?_
> 
> _Would you consider making sure that the Elves who tend to the ladies show them kindness and patience?  I still think they need to cut off from the rest of the population, but since they are now separated, perhaps now would be the time for them to reflect on their lives, in solitude, then begin to see for themselves how one should act.  There are no easy answers, but just as you had to be confronted before you found the impetus to change, perhaps this is their opportunity.  If they choose not to take it, then we will deal with that._
> 
> _Love, I can’t tell you how proud I am that you’ve been able to speak with Galion about your ordeal during the War!  I think it will help, and it won’t always be so hard to do.  I also think it’s better to speak with someone who was actually there, doesn’t it?  Not that the subject will ever be easy, but you’ve made a start.  Galion could be right about the what started this trouble, so this might be getting at the root of things._
> 
> _As for that terrible night, when my dreams were so out of control I struck out at you, I still feel as if I’m the one who should be apologizing!  I’d no idea I had done that, and I’m still horrified.  Thranduil, don’t feel bad. If you had been able to talk about it then, you would have.  Didn’t we have a bargain?  You were going to work on letting go of the past and stop feeling so guilty?  I’m keeping up my end of the deal, and working on my handwriting and spelling, so now it’s your turn.  Stop berating yourself and let it go.  You learned something very important about yourself, and that’s what counts._
> 
> _Galion told me about your surprise little desk in his office, and I love it!  Sigrid and Bain have always been more physically active than Tilda was at that stage, so make sure she spends some time running around for the exercise.  I completely approve of your Chief Aide sending our Little Bean to nap with her Auntie Hil.  If that’s what it takes to get that lady to slow down some, I’m all for it._
> 
> _And, you sneak, you appear to have won the argument about the kids petting the Elk.  My warning about losing your own fingers if they lose theirs, still stands…_
> 
> _I can imagine your Royal Wing is quite noisy and active these day, what with four children, several adults and a new baby!  Speaking of babies, can you let me know how Rhian and the boy are coming along?   Please give me an update.  How is Daeron doing? He had quite to ordeal, too.  The kids say he’s working with them again, but I want to be sure he’s all right.  I hope he and Rhian continue to be friends.  I can’t say if there is something more there; if there is, I honestly don’t have a problem with it.  Being loved by an Elf is something I highly recommend…_
> 
> _Thanks for a blow-by-blow description of how things went in court.  I wish I could have seen you in action!  I’ve yet to see you on that high throne of yours, in all your glory.  Maybe when the Castle’s finished I’ll let you make me one of those things, ha ha.  Or better yet, next time I’m there, you and I can go up there and…._
> 
> _Don’t mind me.  I’m just a King who misses his husband and his children.  Really, really misses his husband.  There are some things a giant, snoring, farting dog can’t make up for, if you know what I mean._
> 
> _You have no idea how much I am missing you.  And I am missing the children just as much.  I still feel “more” inside my heart, since marrying you, and that’s all I will say, but you know what I mean.  I’m working very hard, both to get my city done, and also because I can’t stand still for a minute without feeling your absence.  I’ve never been separated from my kids, and I feel the same loneliness when I think of you.  Which is all the time…_
> 
> _When we see each other again, I don’t think I’m going to let go of the children for days on end, and I won’t let you go for nights on end…_
> 
> _All right, enough whining.  Just let me know how Sigrid’s birthday went.  I hated missing it.  I hate missing anything you all are doing._
> 
> _I need to get back to work.  I can’t stand being idle – it makes the time drag, and just makes this horrible winter seem longer.  Please, I know we have separate Kingdoms, but let’s not ever be separated so long again?_
> 
> _Gi Melin, Thranduil.  Always._
> 
> _Your Bard_
> 
> _P.S.  I’m still waiting for my drawing of you, although the ones Tilda makes are pretty accurate…_
> 
> _P.P.S.  I miss the Elf Thing…  Work some of  Elven magic to make the time go faster, will you?  I need to see you!_

 

* * *

 

 **To** **Glélindë** **from** **Feren** :

 

> _Melethril ni_ _́n, Glélindë,_
> 
> _I can easily picture you caring for our girls, and for their grandfather.  Gruffudd is an interesting man.  I have enjoyed my talks with him, and have learned much about the race of Men in general.  He has lived much in his very short life, and has a wisdom I had not known existed in these people.  For all his hardships, he has a keen sense of humor.  He misses his wife, daughter and son-in-law very much, and he told me many things about them._
> 
> _I am glad you told me about little Alis’s question about her parents.  It speaks to the same concern I have, and I agree with your solution.  Gruffudd has been wonderful in sharing so many stories about his family, and I would like to see these stories written down, at some point, because Alis and Dafina deserve to know all about their birth parents.  This might help them to know how much we love them, and it will help them to know themselves better.  Every child deserves to know where she comes from._
> 
> _I feel our separation keenly this winter, Meleth nîn.  I have always loved you, and we have lived our lives this way since before we were married, but now that we have a family, I can hardly stand the separation.  Human children grow so fast, and I hate the idea of missing a day of it!  I pray this winter goes swiftly.  I think, after we have established a home here in Dale, we will keep our home in the Woodland Realm, as well, so you all can move with me.  I do not want us to be separated again. I want to see you, and our little curly-haired treasures every moment I can._
> 
> _What is your daily life like, with our girls?  Please write me every detail, so I can picture their beautiful mother taking care of our new family._
> 
> _Please look after yourself, Lindë and be gentle with yourself as you learn the skills and joys of being a mother.  Do not hesitate to ask Lady Hilda for help if you feel overwhelmed._
> 
> _Smile for me, and think of me, always, Meleth nîn._
> 
> _Feren_
> 
> _P.S.  As neither of our children can read, I have drawn some pictures for them, of the Hall, and the houses being built and the things we are doing.  I have never been any sort of artist, but I hope the girls enjoy them._

* * *

 

 **From** **Bard** **to** **Galion** : 

 

> _Greetings to you, Lord Galion,_
> 
> _I would pay good money to see our little one working away at her desk in your office!  Just don’t let her Ada spoil her too much, or he will face Hilda’s wrath, and you’ll all have to cover your ears!_
> 
> _So…  “Uncle Galion,” eh?  I am perfectly fine with it.  I told Tauriel, and she grinned from ear to ear, upon hearing this.  You are an important part of our family, and she tells me she and Legolas love you dearly, so trust me, the more the merrier!_
> 
> _Thanks for arranging the legal papers so efficiently for me.  I did receive the original the “poison pen” letter from those two ladies, and I’ve also written him my thoughts as to their treatment._
> 
> _I still believe, at this point, they need to be separated from the rest of the population of Dale.  All of my people have been traumatized, and do not need the negativity.  We all need to recover, and I suppose those ladies do, too.  Let us hope their solitary confinement, as I wrote to your King, causes them to reflect._
> 
> _I am pleased to hear of no reports of sickness amongst my people.  I know that this time of year it’s common for them to have colds and coughs.  I know that for us, no one has ever found a cure for these things, we just have to wait it out, but perhaps Elves can help.  Please ask Elénaril to speak with Hannah, the Midwife about this.  Forewarned is forearmed, that’s my motto._
> 
> _Again, thanks for being such a good help to my husband, a good Uncle to my children, and for being part of our family._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Bard, King of Dale._

 

* * *

 

 **To** **Sigrid** **from** **Bard** :

 

> _Hello, My Girl,_
> 
> _Percy loves the socks you made him, and yes, I’m sending you two that need repaired.  Anything you can send me to keep warm is much appreciated.  I might be married now, but I still need my best girl to look after my fingers and toes, yeah?_
> 
> _Your Ada told me how beautiful Queen Mírelen was, but I’m anxious to see it for myself.  He’s right about your remembering your Mam.  You should never think that we want any of you to forget about your mother.  We need to keep her memories alive, so that they can live on in you, and all your future deeds.  My own Da, was very important to me, and he still is.  When I become officially crowned, I want to dedicate my reign to him and all he taught me.  He too, was a descendant of Girion, and this Kingdom belongs just as much to him as to the rest of us._
> 
> _So glad to hear Rhian is doing well.  She will need a lot of time, and even more patience, to heal the hurts she has.  Your visits there are good for her; just remember to follow Hannah’s lead and do what she suggests.  It makes sense that she wants you to be cheerful and normal around Rhian.  From what I’ve found out about her life, it’s probably the only taste of this she’s ever had._
> 
> _I can’t wait to see you again.  All of you.  I’m sorry you were upset and lonesome for me, and please know I miss you all just as much.  You’re right to keep busy – it’s the only thing that keeps me sane and tires me out so I can sleep.  Just focus on the new city we’re trying to build and what our life will be like.  Focus on your schoolwork and learning as much as you can in the Healing Halls.  I can’t tell you how proud I am of you._
> 
> _I love you,_
> 
> _Your Da_

 

* * *

 

 **To** **Bain** **from** **Bard** :

 

> _Hello, son,_
> 
> _So finally, the boys don’t outnumber the girls!  I’m happy that Rhys is with you kids.  So is his Da.  Alun was overjoyed when I told him, and you must write me all about their visit._
> 
> _Enjoy your sword and archery practice, boys, but don’t neglect your studies, all right?  And do me a favor?  Watch your little sister around the Elk.  She seems to like them, and, of course the Elvenking can refuse her nothing, but make sure she’s safe, all right?_
> 
> _Look after each other, and if you keep at it, perhaps you might even beat Thranduil at Stratagem!_
> 
> _I feel terrible about missing your sister’s birthday, and I hope you all made a fuss over her and helped her have a good day.  Yours is next, but thankfully, it’s late enough in the year that we’ll all be together.  I’m sure by now you’ve learned that Elves don’t celebrate the day of birth, they have “begetting days.”  It’s very different than how we do things, but I expect all of you to respect the differences between our cultures, even if you don’t always understand them._
> 
> _You will be a King, someday, Bain.  I promise, I’m not going to be the kind of Da that will constantly rub your nose in it, but there are times when I can’t avoid it.  As a Crown Prince, I need to you set the example in your attitude, so the other boys and girls know how to act._
> 
> _I heard that history is your favorite subject.  Mine is too.  I’m learning about our Kingdom the same as you, and it’s fascinating, isn’t it?_
> 
> _Love you son,_
> 
> _Your Da_

* * *

 

 **To** **Tilda** **from** **Bard** :

 

> _To Lady Tilda, the New Aide of the Woodland Realm:_
> 
> _I hear your Uncle Galion can’t run the Kingdom without you now! Keep things running smoothly for your Ada.  Galion also tells me you help make sure Auntie Hil gets naps when she needs them.  Good for you.  If you need to lie down with her to make sure she gets her rest, then you just do that.  We love, Auntie Hil, don’t we?_
> 
> _I’m so proud of your writing.  You’re working very hard, and I can see the improvement.  Learning to spell can be hard, and it’s frustrating, but you must work hard at it.  You’ll get the hang of it, before you know it.  Now that you have lots of books to read, that will help, love._
> 
> _I thank you kindly for the picture of Ada.  I keep asking him to draw one of himself, but I think I like yours better._
> 
> _I know you love to see the Elk, Little Bean, but please be careful.  Do you still visit the dogs at the barracks and the horses?  I hear there are lots of cats in the Palace, too.  Can you draw me some pictures of those?_
> 
> _I love you and miss my baby girl, but you keep up with your schoolwork, and make sure that you get plenty of time to run around and play, all right?_
> 
> _Love you every minute of the day,_
> 
> _Your Da_

* * *

 

 **To** **Hilda** **from** **Bard** : 

 

> _Dear Hil,_
> 
> _So glad to hear you’re feeling better.  You just make sure to lie down in the afternoons if you need to.  Our Little Bean is smart as a whip for putting herself in charge of your naps.  Sounds like you both benefit from it._
> 
> _Valar, Hil, our oldest is sixteen already!  I can hardly stand not being there to see her big day, but I can imagine she looked beautiful at the party.  Tell me all about it! She’s such a smart, sharp young lady, but she is still a girl.  How many years did she feel like she had to take her Mam’s place?  Now that our lives are different, I want her to have a chance to be young, without the responsibilities that she had forced on her.  She deserves that.  Now, as to your crazy husband.  He’s hearty and hale, and no longer making a fool of me.  Thangon is my favorite weapon!  Just toss him an Elvish biscuit and send to lie down on Percy’s bed, and, Bob’s your Uncle, no more problem.  Ha ha.  Don’t worry.  He’ll come up with some dastardly way to get me back for smelling up his room, I have no doubt._
> 
> _I will say this, but if you tell Percy, I’ll deny it: we all need the laughter, and I love your husband for helping the chase away the gloom.  We miss you people and it cheers us all up mightily._
> 
> _Keep an eye on everyone for me, and know that none of this would be possible without you!_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Bard_
> 
> _P.S.  Oh!  Have you spoken to Daeron and Elénaril about making sure they’re ready for colds and whatnot?  Remember, Elves don’t have illnesses like we do, and I want to make sure everyone is ready._
> 
>  

* * *

 

 **To** **Sigrid** , **Bain** **and** **Tilda** **from** **Percy** : 

 

> _Hello kids,_
> 
> _Glad to get your letter about your friend, Rhys.  The boy’s Da has been frantic, and I’m sure at the moment he is enjoying their surprise reunion._
> 
> _The homes have been going up pretty fast, we have several crews of Elves, Dwarves and Men working together and some are finished, even!  We’ve got a long way to go, and the snowstorm didn’t help, but we’ll do what we can._
> 
> _In the meantime, we all have been playing games and singing songs and having a good time.  I can’t play tricks on your Da anymore.  He got really mean and made his dog stink up my room!  So I guess I’ll have to behave._
> 
> _We all miss you, Sea Monsters, but you take care of each other and keep busy until we can see you again._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Uncle Percy_

* * *

 

 **To** **Thranduil** **from** **Tauriel** ,  

 

> _Suilad, Ada,_
> 
> _Sigrid told me about the picture I drew, and I am sorry it made you sad.  I confess, I do not remember drawing it.  I must have been small.  You were always so sad, and I wanted to you feel happy, I remember that.  Please do not dwell on the past, because I know you think that you hurt me a great deal because of your sadness.  You did not._
> 
> _I have been keeping active, training with Bard vigorously, and when I am off-duty, I enjoy helping to build the houses.  You would be amused to learn that pounding nails for hours and hours works out a great deal of anxiety!_
> 
> _I have taken Bard’s suggestion, and spent more time with the Dwarves, particularly Dwalin and Balin, who were with Kili and his brother since their childhood.  At first, it was difficult to speak of him, but I have noticed that Dwarves have a wonderful way of celebrating the lives of their kin, however brief.  After a time, I found I myself enjoying all these stories of Kili, especially the misdeeds of he and Fili’s youth!_
> 
> _Farien enjoys her time on the hearth, all curled up before the fire, purring.  She stays here most of the time while I am out with Bard, as he builds with the rest of the crews._
> 
> _I am impressed at how we all are working together, now.  There was a bit of a problem, last week with couple of young Dwarves, who didn’t want to listen to Gloin or work with the Elves.  Apparently, he sent word to Erebor about it, because the next day, King Dáin himself came and sorted it._
> 
> _He took them home with him, after stating those two will be emptying chamber pots for everyone in Erebor for the next month, until they can, and I quote, “get their bloody shite together.”  I do not know how Bard kept a straight face!  After they all left, the entire Hall started laughing, and I admit, I joined them._
> 
> _The next day, two other Dwarves came, from the Original Company, Bombur and Nori, and things were back to normal._
> 
> _Feren and I continue to work with Bard and he improves.  That is all I will say, but I know you are pleased to hear this._
> 
> _King Dáin’s family, along with others from the Iron Hills will be joining them at Erebor in the spring.  I’ve heard that Lady Di_ _́s might come for a visit, eventually.  She is now ruler of the Blue Mountains, so she will be unable to stay permanently, but she wants to see where her brother and her sons are buried.  Bard is looking forward to meeting her, and to thank her for her sons’ bravery.  I must tell you, Ada – I am nervous at the idea of meeting her.  What if she hates me, because I am not a Dwarf?_
> 
> _Maybe that is silly.  I have never been in this position before, and I do not know what to do.  I hope I see you to talk with you about this before she comes, but if not, what do you think?  I do not know what to say to her.  I need your help and advice Ada.  This is confusing.  Bard keeps telling me that I have nothing to be nervous about, but I would feel better hearing it from you and Galion._
> 
> _I must go close for now.  The caravan is about to return to you, and I need to make sure I write to everyone.  Please hug the children for me._
> 
> _Mil,_
> 
> _Tauriel_

 

* * *

 

 **To** **Sigrid** , **Bain** **and** **Tilda** **from** **Tauriel** : 

 

> _Suilad, children of Dale,_
> 
> _Thank you for the diary.  I have enjoyed reading through my thoughts as a young elleth.  My spelling was terrible!  Mostly what I wrote was very silly things about my favorite horse, my favorite dress, and my friends.  Nothing important to anyone else, but it is nice to remember these things._
> 
> _I miss you all, and hope you are keeping up your studies.  And please do not worry. Your Uncle Percy would not dare to play jokes on me – I am much too quick, and he knows I can make him really suffer!_
> 
> _I am sorry to hear about your troubles with Ina and Iola, but I am very glad to hear that your friend, Rhys is staying with you now, and is safe.  Please tell him I am happy for him._
> 
> _And Miss Tilda, your writing is improving! Your letters and very straight and neat, and I can see you are working very hard and spelling things correctly.  And Tithen Pen, you did nothing wrong in giving Ada my picture, and we both are very glad you did._
> 
> _My cat, Farien, is happy here, and especially loves the bed I made her by my fireplace.  She’s very busy keeping the Castle free of mice, and she likes to keep me company the rest of the day._
> 
> _Please be good to each other, and never stop looking after Ada and Galion._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Tauriel_

* * *

 

 **To** **Hilda** **from** **Percy** :  

 

> _Greetings to my wife,_
> 
> _Well, my feet are toasty warm, thanks to you and our Sigrid, I thank you kindly.  She’s quite good at it the socks now, isn’t she?  I wish I still had the first pair she made for me, remember?  She was so proud of them and it was hard not to laugh – one was way too small, and the other was huge and full of holes, but you’d have thought she was handing me a chest full of gold, she was that proud of herself.  I told her they were my favorite pair, and they still are, even if they are now ashes._
> 
> _I’m proud of you for helping our kids stand up to the bullying from those two ladies.  I read their letter and it sounds to me like those two ladies didn’t have such a great time from Rhys’s great-grandfather.  Everything I heard about that man – Ioan, was his name – said he was as nasty as they came.  The whole thing makes me angry, but there’s no point in dwelling on it._
> 
> _I’m glad you’re there and can keep checking on the little ones of Dale.  I agree with you about Tilda.  I don’t think of her as a spy for Thranduil, as much as a way for the little ones to be heard.  Glad to hear its working out with that big family._
> 
> _Listen, love.  Bard just asked me to finish up. The caravan wants to make their way to you as long as there’s a break in the weather._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Your Percy_

* * *

 

 **To** **Galion** **from** **Tauriel** :

 

> _Suilad Galion,_
> 
> _So, I hear you have an Assistant in the afternoons!  I can picture little Tilda sitting beside you, working away, and it reminds me of all the times I spent there with you.  I can also see Tilda napping in the chair you always like to have there.  I cannot wait to see you again._
> 
> _I have visited Erebor overnight again, and I enjoyed myself immensely.  I don’t go there as often as I would like, because I must look after Bard, but he had been kind to allow me to visit my friends.  Bard spends his mornings in meetings, but in the afternoons, he goes out to the different building crews.  He likes to work with them, and not just stand and watch, and I respect this about him._
> 
> _As much as I miss the Palace, Galion, and I always will, I feel happy to be here.  It is terrible to be separated from you and the children, of course, but this place is beginning to feel like home.  Bard and I have spent many evenings talking, over a game of Draughts, and I can see why Ada fell in love with him.  They are perfect for each other!_
> 
> _Of course, our family would never be complete without you.  You give yourself little credit, but you truly have been the glue that has held us all together, and we all know this.  I can’t wait to see you again, dearer than Uncle!_
> 
> _Mil, Tauriel_
> 
>  

 

 

 

 **ELVEN** **TRANSLATIONS** :

 

 _Melethril nîn_ _, Glélindë,_ \- To my love, Glélindë

 _Suilad, Ada,_ \- Greetings, Dad

 _Mellon ni_ _̂_ _n_ – My friend.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Sigrid celebrates her sixteenth birthday, with a party and some very special gifts! We FINALLY get to see what was in the mysterious wooden box that came from Erebor!
> 
> They party was enjoyed by all, and even Rhian had a small surprise for her friend!
> 
> The only thing to put a damper on her special day is Ada's worry over little Tilda, who seems unusually tired...
> 
> Letters arrive in Dale with all the latest news.

 

 **The** **Woodland** **Realm** , **31 st** **of** **January** , **2942** , **T**. **A**. ( **Sigrid’s** **birthday** )

Thranduil rolled over in his big bed, and contemplated his ceiling full of stars, as he woke up.  He closed his eyes and turned inward, as he did every morning, to feel Bard’s presence in his heart.  And it was there; he was far away from his love, but he was still present within him, and it was a comfort. He put his hand to his chest, in an unconscious move, and rubbed in small, gentle circles.  It wasn’t possible, from this distance, to feel Bard’s emotions, but there was no aching void.  It had only been three months since he and Bard had met and fallen in love, and only six weeks since they joined in marriage, yet his heart had shifted around so easily to accommodate all that life with Bard meant.  Three more children had easily moved into his life and carved out permanent places in his heart.  They were giving him joy, and he was quickly learning how much delight could be found in the most ordinary moments of their lives:  Helping Sigrid with her Sindarin lessons, watching Tilda’s sweet face, as she napped, and talking with Bain.  

He had not been this happy since Legolas was small, and he and Mírelen were chasing him all around the Palace.

Since the night of Bain’s nightmare, his bond with the boy became stronger.  Each greatly admired the other in a new way:  Bain sought him out more, and they had gone for several walks in the King's garden, talking about whatever was on Bain's mind.  The boy asked Thranduil many questions about soldiering, and Thranduil was happy to share his wisdom and advice with both him, and Rhys.  Bain also had questions about what it took to be a King.  The boy told him how much he wanted to be a good one, when the time came.

Tilda was enjoying life in the Palace. In the afternoons, Thranduil would often peek through the doorway to Galion's office, and watch his Little One work at her miniature desk.  She had a habit of biting on the corner of her lower lip when she was really concentrating, and he found it adorable.  Yesterday, she ran up to him after classes, jumping up and down with excitement, so he scooped her up in his arms, so she could show him the beginnings of two "grownup teeth" that were coming in.  He and Galion made a big show of admiration, and predicted that they would be the finest teeth the Woodland Realm.

Sigrid was a wonder to him.  Thranduil admired her tenacity and intelligence, but he also admired her compassion.  She was a "doer" like Hilda, but she was softer; the perfect combination to be an effective Healer.  He enjoyed sitting with her in the evenings, reading aloud while she sat beside him with her knitting or her sewing.  Every once in a while, she would stop and lean her head on his shoulder and smile.  

The best part of parenting, he found, was when he made his nighttime "rounds."  When Legolas was little, either his wife or a nurse took care of it, so this was new to him, and a quiet, beautiful surprise. Thranduil made a point each night, to check all the children before he retired, to put Bain's book away and turn down his lamp, to make sure Rhys was tucked in with Esta, and to pull up Tilda's covers, and make sure Charlotte and Daisy were in her arms.  Sigrid would always sleep on her side, snuggled in the blankets up to her nose, so he would lightly kiss her brow, close their door, and make sure the lamp was lit in their privy, before went to his own bedchamber.

 He hated this separation from Bard, and he missed Tauriel terribly, but his growing affection for each of the children was a wonderful consolation.

Thranduil smiled once more at the ceiling, then quickly threw back the covers to wash and dress; there was no more time for contemplation; today was Sigrid’s birthday!

Once finished with his morning ablutions, Thranduil made his way to the front of his apartment.  Galion was already there, getting the breakfast table laid out. 

“Good morning, My Lord.  I believe the children are still asleep, but I plan to get them up momentarily.”

“Thank you, Galion, but I shall do it, this morning.”  He smiled at his Steward.  “I want to get our 'birthday child' up.”

Galion smiled back.  “It is difficult to get used to, is it not?  Elven children are still very small at the age of sixteen, yet our Sigrid is almost grown!  It is fascinating, but I am enjoying it very much.”

“I am, as well, _Mellon nîn_ _.”_   Thranduil said.  “The race of Men know how to make the most of their time on Middle Earth, and do not run from life.  There is much we can learn from that.”

He opened the door to the children’s apartment, and found Bain, sitting on the couch, dressed, but barely awake.  “Good morning; did you sleep well?”

Bain looked up, still bleary. “Aye.  I’m trying to wake up so I can take Esta outside.”

Thranduil grinned. “Please hurry,  _Ionneg;_ we have a busy day ahead.”

Bain got up and opened the Hallway door, where Daeron met him, grinning.  “I see you are finally out of bed, Lord Bain!  We need to hurry, or you will be late for breakfast.” Daeron saluted Thranduil, “Good morning, My Lord.”

“Good morning to you, Lieutenant.  This morning, we are having a small breakfast celebration, so please do not allow the Bain and Esta to linger.”

“As you wish.” The Elf whistled, _“Tule_ _̂, Esta!”_ and the sheep dog ran out to him, and into the hallway, as the Guard shut the door behind them.

Thranduil went to the girls’ bedroom door and knocked. 

“Come in,” said a small, sleepy voice.

He opened the door to find Sigrid dressed, and brushing out her hair, and Tilda, sitting up in her bed and yawning, as she stretched her arms.  “Morning, _Ada.”_

“Good morning to you, _Tithen Pen_!  It is not like you to still be in your night clothes; did you sleep well?”

“I think I slept good.  I don’t remember.”  She rubbed her eyes, then crawled out of bed with Charlotte and held up her arms to be picked up, which, of course, he did.

“I think that is a sign that you had a good night’s sleep.”  He kissed her cheek and booped her nose.  Then he turned to Sigrid.  “How are you feeling, now that you are older?”

The young lady smiled, “I don’t feel any different, really.  Maybe it’ll hit me at the party tonight.”

“I feel older!” piped up Tilda. “It’ll be so much fun!  Am I going to dance?”

Thranduil nodded.  “You are. I hope you will save a dance for me, _Hênig._ ” Then he put the girl down.  “Go to the necessary and then wash.  Bain is taking the dog out, and Galion is getting breakfast ready for us.”

“Are Rhys and his Da coming for breakfast?"

“They will be at the party tonight.  This breakfast is for just family.  Now, please go.” He patted her head, and steered her in the right direction.

After Tilda handed Charlotte to him and took off, Thranduil went to Sigrid and kissed her head.  “You seem grown up to me.”  He smiled at her reflection in the looking glass.  “And beautiful, too.”

Sigrid turned around and wrapped her arms around his waist.  “Thanks, _Ada._ I suppose I’ll feel older when I’m all dressed up tonight.  Can’t I have a hint about my dress?”

“No, you may not.  In any case, I have no hints to give you.  The Tailor's Guild has kept your dresses secret, even from me.”

She asked him, “Why won’t they tell you, at least?”

“Perhaps they know if you ask me nicely, I can refuse you nothing, _Iellig.”_ He quirked an eyebrow at her.

Sigrid sighed, and leaned her head against him.  “I wish Da was here.” 

“I do, as well.  But, we shall think of him today, and we will write and tell him all about it.  He will be anxious to get those letters, I am sure, so we must work very hard to enjoy ourselves, yes?”

“So, we’ll have good things to write about?”  She smiled up at him.

“Exactly. And he will be happy to get them.”  He turned her around to face the mirror.  “Come, let me help you with your hair.  Yours is so much easier than your Da’s.  At least you don’t look like a wild, black Warg in the mornings.”

Sigrid giggled, as Thranduil brushed and braided it.  Once Tilda was dressed, and he helped her with her hair, the boys came back with Esta, so they all went in to breakfast.

Tilda ran to Galion, “Good morning Uncle Galion!  Today is Sigrid birthday!” and she gave him a hug. 

“Indeed! Is that not wonderful?  Many happy returns, Lady Sigrid.”

Sigrid went over and kissed Galion’s cheek.  “Thank you,” she smiled at him.

Just then, the door opened, and in walked Hilda, who enveloped Sigrid in a hug.  “Oh, my girl!  Sixteen today!  I can hardly believe it!” She stepped back and looked at the girl up and down.  “You’re so tall!  I don’t know how this happened – it seems like you were only a baby an hour ago!”

Tilda rolled her eyes.  “That can’t be true, Auntie Hil.”

“Well, it feels true.” Hilda replied smoothly. “Hello everybody.  Ready to face the day?”

Bain said, hopefully, “Since it’s Sigrid’s birthday, does that mean we still have to go to school?”

All three adults, and the birthday girl answered, “YES!”

“I told you," Tilda whispered to him, jabbing him with her elbow.

They all sat down as breakfast was served.  Since this was a special occasion, the guards brought the food, and Galion sat and ate with them, next to Tilda and Charlotte.

During the meal, everyone was talking about the party.  Sigrid was especially excited, and her eyes danced when she talked about the special arrangements she made for all other birthdays this month. 

Thranduil had originally planned a party just for her in the Dining Hall, but last week she approached him with an idea:  She wanted the party to be for everyone from Dale who was celebrating a birthday in January.  Touched by her generosity, he, of course agreed.

“Tonight will be great! I just want food and dancing and everyone to have a good time.  I hope they believed me when I said, ‘No Presents.’”

Tilda looked at her like she had lost her mind.  “Sigrid!  The reason you have birthdays is so you can get presents!"

Thranduil noticed Tilda still looked a little tired, and her cheeks were a bit flushed.  He had been surprised to find her still in bed this morning; usually she’s the first one up and very cheerful.  Hilda, was scrutinizing their little one, as well. 

When their eyes met, Hilda shrugged.  Tilda seemed cheery enough, so perhaps there was no reason to worry.

“Well, I don’t want anyone to get me anything.” Sigrid had been explaining.  “Everyone from Dale lost most of what they had, and aren’t as lucky as we are.  It would be selfish to expect gifts from people who hardly have anything.”

Hilda smiled, “That’s my girl.  Spoken like a good Princess.”

Thranduil wiped his mouth and put his napkin down, then stood. “Excuse me for a moment.”  He went into his bedchamber and retrieved an ornate wooden box from a shelf in his dressing room, then returned to the table.  He set it in front of a wide-eyed Sigrid, saying,

“Fathers are exempt from this 'no-gifts' rule, of course.  Happy Birthday, _Iellig.”_

She looked up at him in shock, “But…  Wh…”

Thranduil laughed.  “I am often told you resemble your mother, but when you are bemused, you look just like your Da!”

“Open it!” squealed Tilda.  “Let me see!”

“First, you must read this.”  Thranduil handed her a letter. 

Sigrid broke the seal and began to read: 

> _Happy birthday, my beautiful, grownup girl!_
> 
> _How does it feel to be sixteen?  You’re growing up so fast…  I still remember the day you were born.  When your Auntie Hil finally sent for me, I needed to lean on your Uncle Percy for support to get from his house back home.  I'd been so nervous, that Uncle Percy had to ply me with enough ale to knock over a horse.  I was a wreck, pacing the floor for hours, waiting for word, and it was driving him crazy!_
> 
> _I remember the day I first laid eyes on your mother, and it was like being struck by a lightning bolt.  I fell in love right then and there.  It was the exact same feeling, when they first put my baby girl in my arms…  You were just so beautiful and tiny and, I must tell you, you were screaming your head off!  You weren’t quite sure what to make of this new world you were born into, and so far, you didn’t like it much._
> 
> _Both your Grandfathers showed up at the house a few minutes later.  Your Granddad Bain had come from Dorwinian for the occasion.  You were the first grandchild on both sides of our family, you see, and so my Da invited him to stay until you were born.  Those two always had a grand time, when they got together.  They acted like rowdy, ridiculous schoolboys – even worse than Uncle Percy.  Your Mam used to tease him about wanting to see his best friend more than his own daughter!_
> 
> _Anyway, they walked into our little house and there I was, holding this screaming bundle of blankets, not knowing what to do.  Your Mam, by that time, had fallen asleep from exhaustion, so Auntie Hil ordered everybody out of the room, and we were sitting in the kitchen._
> 
> _My Da insisted I give the screaming bundle to him, and he began to sing to you.  I’ll never forget it…  You instantly took to him, and quieted down, staring up at him with those beautiful blue eyes that your mother had given you.  Even Granddad Bain didn’t get the same kind of attention from you as my Da._
> 
> _For most of the first year of your life, he was the only one who could settle you when you got colicky.  Many times, I had to walk through Laketown to get him up in the middle of the night, to settle you, so your Mam could get some rest…_
> 
> _But, he loved every minute of it, and he loved every minute he had with you, my girl.  I know he, your Mam and all who went before us look down on our Sigrid, and are so proud of the young woman you’ve become._
> 
>  

Sigrid started to cry, and couldn’t read anymore, so Tilda took the letter from her.  She was going to give it to Auntie Hil, but older woman’s face was buried in her handkerchief.  _Ada_ and Uncle Galion weren’t in any better shape, so she shrugged her shoulders and handed it over to Bain, to finish:   

> _You must promise me something, love.  I want you to go to your party tonight, and have the time of your life; I want you to smile, laugh, and dance your feet off!  You have to do this for me, so you can write and tell me all about it!_
> 
> _Now, I want to tell you about your presents: Your Ada and I asked King Dáin to help us to continue a tradition that was once kept in Dale.  I can’t wait until I see you with them, but I know they will never be as beautiful as you are._
> 
> _I love you,_
> 
> _Your Da_

 

“You guys are so mushy,” Bain commented, rolling his eyes, and breaking the spell.  Everyone started to laugh and wipe their eyes.

Finally, Tilda couldn’t stand it anymore, and said, “Open it, Sig!  What’s in it?”

Sigrid looked up at Thranduil.  “Go on,” he urged, and Tilda got down off of her chair and stood beside her, so she could see.

She lifted the lid, and saw, in a bed of dark velvet, a beautiful gold necklace, with small garnets and diamonds, a matching bracelet, and a small, delicate tiara done in beautiful golden swirls, accented with the same jewels.

“Oh…” Sigrid clapped her hands over her mouth.  Everyone else stepped forward to see, and gasped. 

“Ooh! They’re so pretty!” Tilda said.  “They’re just so pretty!”

Hilda had her hand to her heart.  “They’re perfect!  They’re just the thing for a young Princess, Thranduil!”

Even Bain was taken aback.  “They’re sparkly, aren’t they?”

Sigrid shot up out of her chair, and threw her arms around the Elvenking’s middle.  “Thank you, _Ada!_   Oh…  They’re beautiful!  I can’t believe it!”

Thranduil held his daughter tight and kissed her hair.  “You are most welcome, child.”

After everyone finished their breakfast, the box was put back into Thranduil’s closet for safekeeping, and they dispersed to their various morning activities.

The Elvenking was a bit concerned about Tilda, because she still looked fatigued.  He checked, and found no fever, and she didn't hurt anywhere, but he and Galion had her drink a cup of hot herbal tea with honey, just in case, and made sure she took a good, long nap that afternoon.

 

When everyone’s day was through, Thranduil took Tilda back to his chambers, just as the dresses for the party arrived.  Glélindë smiled proudly, and her dimple was showing, as she brought in the garments.  

“Good afternoon, My Lord, Lady Sigrid.” The _Elleth_ smiled.

“Hi, 'Lindë!” Sigrid rushed in from her room.  “Ooh!  They’re here!  What do they look like?”

Thranduil grinned at Glélindë, then said, “Why don’t you open the package and find out?”

“Here, help me, Til; there’s one for you, too!”

Sigrid clapped her hands with glee when she saw them; they were done in Elven fashion, with long, flowing lines. Sigrid’s dress was a lovely red to match her new jewelry, and Tilda’s, also a gift from the Elves, was a lovely shade of dark blue.  Bain was given a new outfit as well, in dark green with black leggings.

“Thank you!” Sigrid hugged Glélindë.  “It’s beautiful!”

“You are most welcome, My Lady.  Many happy returns of day.”

Once they were done fussing over the new clothes, Thranduil made sure the older children finished their homework, then ate an early dinner, so they could get ready for the evening’s festivities.

Once the girls were dressed, Thranduil took them to his own dressing room, and helped them to braid and arrange their hair. 

“How did you learn to do that, _Ada?”_ Tilda asked, as she sat on a stool, and watched him do Sigrid’s hair.

“My wife had very long, wavy hair, and  I used to enjoy brushing it out for her.  She often needed help to arrange it, and the maids usually helped her, but whenever possible, I liked to do it.”

“I’ll bet she was pretty.” The little girl said.

 “Oh, she was!”  Sigrid turned to her sister.  _“Ada_ took me to see some paintings of her, and you should see them!  She was beautiful!  He’s right; her hair was long, almost down to here.” she indicated past her hips. “And really dark and curly.”

“How come I didn’t see the pictures?” Tilda was pouting.  “I want to see them!"

“You were taking your nap on Galion’s couch when I showed her, _Tithen Pen,_ but they will all be rehung soon.  If you take a good nap tomorrow, I might take you to the storage room, so you can see Queen Mirelen for yourself. Would that be suitable?" 

Tilda nodded. "I'll be good."

"I know you will. Now,” he addressed Sigrid, “your hair is done; all we need are the finishing touches, and you will be ready for your birthday.”

He opened the carved wooden box, and stood behind her, so he could put her necklace on, then her bracelet, and finally, put the tiara on her head, carefully placed before the hair he had artfully pinned on her head in a swirling mass of curls.

“Oh, _Ada!”_ she breathed.  “They’re so beautiful!  I still can’t believe they’re for me!” The girl moved her head back and forth, watching the jewels sparkle in the light.

“Oh, but they are for you, _Iellig._   Fit for a Princess.  Although,” he smiled down her, “I do not think they do you justice.” He gently lifted her chin, “You look truly lovely, Sigrid.”  He kissed her forehead.

She smiled up at him, and melted his heart with her blue eyes.  Then she asked, “What tradition was Da talking about in his letter?”

“When Erebor was established, long ago, it became tradition for the Three Kings of the North to bestow such gifts to the Princesses of Dale.  I told your father about this, and when we had finished our negotiations with the Dwarves, your father and I approached Dáin.  He looked into his records and found several designs for them.  Erebor provides all the crown jewels for Dale, so the tiaras for the Princesses are traditionally also the from the Dwarves.  My Kingdom provides the bracelet, and the King of Dale gives his daughter the necklace.  So, you see, these are not just birthday gifts, they are part of history and tradition.  You are a daughter of Kings, and you will need such things as a Princess.”

“I want to write to King Dáin and tell him thank you.”  Sigrid admired the swirls of gold and sparkle of jewels nestled in her hair.  “Why did he choose the red stones?”

“Those are garnets, _Iellig._   They symbolize the month of January.”

“Why does just the oldest girl get them?” Despite her long nap, Tilda still seemed off and cranky, “I want some too!”

“You, will get something like this, when it is your turn, but yours will not look like your sister’s.  Your Da tells me your birthday is the last day of September, so you will have sapphires, in your jewelry.  I am sure King Dáin will fashion something equally beautiful.”

“What do sapphires look like?”

“They are the same color as your dress.  Here; I will show you.”  He stepped over to a shelf, and took down another carved wooden box.  In it was the Elven diadem Thranduil usually wore to banquets and other formal occasions.  He took it out of the box, and showed the girls the dark blue stones and diamonds, against the silver sheen of mithril.  “I plan to wear this for the party, this evening.  Do you like them?”

“They’re pretty!  I’m glad they’re dark blue.  I don’t like light blue at all!  Why is your crown silver and not gold, like Sigrid’s?”  Tilda asked.

“Dale’s crown jewels and such have always been in gold, so it is tradition that their Princesses have the same thing.  Yours, will also be gold and sapphire.”

“Ooh, that’ll be pretty, won’t it, Til?”  Sigrid pulled her sister in her lap.

Tilda finally smiled, and nodded her head.  “I can’t wait, till I'm bigger."

"Do not be in such a hurry to grow up, _Tithen_ _Pen_.  You must allow me time to enjoy having a little girl, again."

“It was nice of King Dáin to make these himself.  He could have had someone else do it.”

“He could have, yes, but I think he was proud to continue the tradition.”  He kissed her temple.

“Will the Dwarves do anything for Bain?”  Tilda asked.

“An excellent question.  At your father's coronation, the Crown of Dale is placed upon his head, but he will only use it for formal ceremonies, as it is quite heavy.  For every other occasion, he will wear a smaller, lighter version of it.  Normally the King would recieve that when he would be named Crown Prince, but, since your Da was never a prince, his will be presented with this later."

“When will Bain get that?”  Tilda asked.

“At age eighteen, Dale’s Crown Prince is presented to his people, and he is given a smaller, lighter version of your father’s Ceremonial one.  The design also includes things which reflect the Prince’s special talents, or interests.  Bain is very interested in military matters, so his personal crown will most likely reflect this, plus anything else that is unique about him.  It will also be adorned with gems reflecting the month of his birth. Each is unique to the future king, and cannot be passed down."

"Bain's birthday is in August." Sigrid said, and Tilda nodded in agreement. 

"So your Da has said.  Bain's crown will feature Peridots, which is a light green stone.  He will wear it throughout his life - when he holds court, when he rides to battle, and, eventually, he will be buried in it.  Since your father was never named Crown Prince, the Dwarves will fashion something like this for him.  Most likely, his archery skills will be reflected in the design.

“Like the Black arrowhead on your wedding rings?”

He held up his hand, where the black onyx and emerald leaves shone against the mithril.  “Very likely.  These were also a gift from King Dáin himself.”  He smiled. 

"Do you know when Da's birthday is?"

"I do.  Your Auntie Hil told me.  The eighteenth day of May, so he will have emeralds. Also, the same month as my own Begetting Day.  So our wedding rings symbolize much more than the Black Arrow, does it not?"

Sigrid grinned.  “So, is King Dáin our Royal Jeweler?"

"It would seem so.  I think he finds it a relaxing hobby, in the same way I find solace in drawing and painting.  It's a creative outlet that eases the pressure of Kingship.  Your Da finds solace in shooting, and Bain will soon find his own interests."

"Just like my knitting. It relaxes me, and I love working with all the colors; I saw your Guild make some really lacy shawls, and I'd love to learn to do that!" Sigrid said, as she stood up and patted the chair. "Come on, Tilda, your turn.”

Once she was seated in front of the mirror, Thranduil began to brush out the little girl’s hair.  “Would you like it down, or up, _Tithen Pen?”_

“I don’t know…” she hesitated.

“How about this?” he pulled half of her hair back and let the rest fall down upon her shoulders.  “You remind me of your Da when your hair is like this.”

Tilda nodded.  “I like that.  Can you make the top part swirly, like Sigrid’s?”

“Of course, I can.”  He quickly arranged the top into a nice little bun, then added a surprise little touch: a small silver dragonfly pin was added.  He took a small mirror and showed it to her, “Is that suitable, _hênig?”_

“I love it!” She stood up on the chair and kissed his cheek, then he helped her down. 

“Shall we join the others?  I know Galion is anxious to see how lovely you look.”

 

They went out to the living room, where the others were waiting, and Galion kissed Sigrid's hand, and offered to escort the birthday girl.  Thranduil picked up Tilda, to carry her, then Bain bowed, then gallantly offered his arm to Auntie Hil, who proudly took it.  The boy was almost Bard's height, and promised to be just as handsome. 

And off they went to the party, which turned out to be a merry gathering.  Everyone gasped at Sigrid's new jewelry, and crowded around her to compliment her, as her proud _Ada_ looked on, as she explained the history behind her gifts.

The highlight of the evening for Thranduil, was his dance with Sigrid.  He indicated for the musicians to play a lovely, but slower song, and escorted her into the middle of the floor.  “Are you having a good time?”

She smiled up at him, her eyes shining, and whispered, “I feel like I’m in a dream, _Ada_ ; this is all so wonderful.  I can’t believe it!  Thank you!”

“It is I who must thank you, _Iellig;_ it is a privilege to dance with the loveliest girl here.”  He smiled down at Sigrid and kissed her brow.  She was strong, determined, and truly wanted to serve her people.  No amount of heritage or teaching can produce that in a young woman.  It all came from her, and she deserved the best he could give her.  She truly looked a princess, and he was proud to call her his daughter.

_“Ada?”_

“Yes?”  He smiled down at her, as her face turned thoughtful.

“I’m happy for you and Da love and for myself, too, but it’s hard not to think of my Mam at times like this.”

“Of course, you should think of her, Sigrid.  You should always honor her in the special moments of your life.  Do you think she’s happy for us?”

Sigrid considered this, as they gently swirled around the dance floor. “Yes, I do.”

“I think so, too.  It is a privilege to love and care for those she left behind.  I am grateful to her, for such a blessing."

“I love you, _Ada.”_ She leaned her head on his chest, as they swirled around.

“And I, you, _Iellig.”_   He kissed the top of her head.

They danced for a moment or two, then Sigrid’s face lit up. “Look!” she gasped, and Thranduil followed her gaze.

There, in the wide doorway to the Dining Hall, stood Hannah, with Rhian on her arm.  The girl gave Sigrid a small smile and a wave, and looked uncomfortable, but determined.  Thranduil watched as Hannah whispered some words of encouragement, and he graced them both with a smile and a nod.

He knew Rhian wouldn’t be joining the party, but this was real progress.

“I’m so proud of her.” Sigrid was smiling up at him. 

“Perhaps this was her way of giving you a birthday gift?”

Sigrid thought about this, and nodded.  “I think you’re right.”

The song ended, and he bowed, as she curtsied perfectly amid applause.  Then the dancing started in earnest, along with the rest of the party.  Thranduil went to Tilda and picked her up to take her around the floor, as she giggled. 

Tilda still seemed all right, but she fell asleep in Hilda’s lap toward the end of the party. 

“Is she all right?” Thranduil asked her. 

“Well, she’s got no fever, and nothing is stuffed up, all I see is she’s a bit tired.  You stay with the rest of them. I’ll get her put to bed, and stay with her.”  She handed the sleeping little girl to a guard, then kissed the birthday girl and Bain good night.

“You all have fun, and don’t worry.  I could use some peace and quiet, myself.” She said to Thranduil, “Whatever is going on with her, love, it’s probably nothing serious, and a good night’s sleep or two will help.”  Then, with Tilda’s head nestled on the guard’s shoulder, the trio left.

Thranduil stayed with Sigrid until the end of the party, and together, they offered their best wishes to others celebrating birthdays, and then went from table to table to thank everyone personally for coming.

When the party was over at last, Bain and Rhys walked ahead of them with Alun, as they made their way back to the Royal Apartments.

Sigrid took her _Ada’s_ arm, and leaned against him.  “I had a wonderful time.”

“I am so glad, _Iellig._   And now, you will have much to tell your Da, will you not?”

“I’m going to tell him every little detail; I don’t want him to miss a minute!”

“Tomorrow, if you can, I would like you to skip your afternoon activities, so you can sit for me.  We shall provide your Da with a painting of you, in your birthday finery, before the next wagons go to Dale.”

“Oh, he would _love_ that!”

 

***************

 

LETTERS FROM WOODLAND REALM

 

 

**4 th of February, 2942, T.A.**

 

**To Bard from Thranduil:**

> _Sailed, Meleth nîn,_
> 
> _I am eager to tell you about Sigrid’s birthday, and you will be very proud of her, as I was:_
> 
> _A day or two before, Sigrid asked for a meeting with Hilda, Galion and myself, and provided us with a list of names of children who all had birthdays during the month of January._
> 
> _She pointed out that she didn’t feel comfortable receiving special attention and gifts when so many others, especially the orphans, will not.  She requested that a large, joint-birthday party be held in the Main Dining Hall, She plans to organize a several parties to celebrate every month of birthdays, so no child will be left out._
> 
> _Is she not a wonderful daughter?_
> 
> _I have also enclosed a parcel, that should make you feel better about being so far away for Sigrid’s birthday.  I hope you like it, though it does not do her justice.  She was a vision that night, and it was an honor to escort her to her very own ball._
> 
> _As you can see from his return, Alun enjoyed his visit with his son, and both are feeling better.  He did not stay with Hilda, as her rooms are used for her frequent meetings, but have no fear.  Galion set him up with another set of rooms, and for the week, Rhys stayed with him._
> 
> _Alun met with me, and after discussing his son, he requested to see his mother and aunt, but I could not permit it, as per your edict, and you had sent no instructions for making an exception in his case.  He was unhappy with my answer, but after he calmed down, he understood.  Then he apologized, saying he understood this was better.  He confirmed what you had said regarding his assistance with their sentence.  He was not a man who gave into anger often, he said, and this should be no exception._
> 
> _It is yet another reason why I know you shall be a good King, Meleth nîn.  You were careful not to be reactive in your pronouncements._
> 
> _This is also why a good Council is essential for the running of a Kingdom.  Their purpose is to challenge each and every decision you need to make as a King, and to prevent unexpected ramifications that could cause needless suffering for your people._
> 
> _Bard, I say this only because I have seen the anger and resentment from the rest Dale’s people here.  A child was abused, and despite their own violent history with their father, there will be no chance at redemption for them amongst your good people, I believe.  Time will tell, and it may say something different when the spring comes, but that what I sense now.  I will, of course, respect your decisions, and you know your people best, but perhaps a solution to your problem might be to make arrangements for them to leave Dale entirely and set them up in a neighboring community._
> 
> _On a personal note, my talks with Galion continue.  It is by no means easy, and it is too soon to know if our efforts are fruitful.  At this point, I feel worse off, but he assures me that this is normal, as I am facing difficult things that have been buried for many, many years._
> 
> _I have the same difficulties as you, with idleness; I do not have physical work to help distract me, but my sparring sessions are more frequent, and longer, much to Bain’s delight, as he enjoys watching them with his friends._
> 
> _I have a request to make of you, Bard, so please consider:  The ladies of your Kingdom have met with Hilda (as I am sure she will tell you) and requested to be trained in weaponry.  The courageous efforts of your women during the Battle will never be forgotten, and it is my firm belief that anyone who wishes such training should be granted, but I shall defer to your decision._
> 
> _We speak in every letter, Meleth nîn, of our loneliness and longing for each other, and it gets too hard to think about, so I will say little this time. It seems to make things worse…_
> 
> _Gi melin, Bard. Always._
> 
> _Thranduil_
> 
>  
> 
> _P.S.  You will find, in the sealed envelope enclosed, the sketch of me, as requested.  I hope you enjoy it, as you are in it, too._
> 
>  

 

* * *

 

**To Bard from Sigrid:**

> _Dearest Da,_
> 
> _I had a wonderful birthday!  I’m sure the others told you of our party in the Main Dining Hall.  It only made sense that others who have birthdays in January could celebrate too, don’t you think? But we all had such a great time!_
> 
> _Oh, Da!  Thank you for my beautiful necklace! I wish I could hug you, and don’t worry, I plan to when I see you!!!  Ada gave it to me when we had breakfast that morning, and I was just telling everyone that I wanted no presents.  He smiled and set the box in front of me.  I could hardly breathe when I opened the box.  I never had anything so nice in all my life!  It’s not too big or showy, and it is just beautiful!  Ada gave me your letter before I opened the box, and that was a wonderful present, too._
> 
> _I really feel like a princess now.  He told me of how King Girion’s daughters had special parties and presents when they turned sixteen, because it meant they were officially young ladies, and no longer girls.  I love them and I love you both so much._
> 
> _And my tiara - It’s perfect; small and delicate, and matches my necklace and bracelet!  I’m writing King Dain a thank-you note, so please make sure you send it to him, for me, please?_
> 
> _Ada did my hair all up himself for the party, and when I came out of my room with my new dress, Bain and Rhys just stared with their mouths open, and Thranduil actually cried a little.  Uncle Galion got all mushy and kissed my hand, and asked if he could have the honor of escorting me.  Hilda was bawling outright, and kept talking about the day I was born._
> 
> _Ada helped me put the jewelry on and the Tiara, and he carried Tilda down to the Dining Hall.  Ada had the musicians play a special song, and he took me out on the dance floor for a special dance, all by ourselves, and it was the best night of my life!!_
> 
> _I hated that you weren’t there, Da, and I thought about you every second.  But you wanted me to have a good time, so I could tell you all about it._
> 
> _I love my life, now, but you have to know, I’ll always adore my Da more than anyone else in the world!!  Don’t ever forget that._
> 
> _I’m gushing, I know.  I never gush.  But Da, I’m sixteen!_
> 
> _Love you forever,_
> 
> _Sigrid_
> 
> _P.S.  Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Rhian even came to the party!  She didn't come in, and she only stayed in the doorway for a few minutes, but she did it!  She looks so much better, these days, and I think she's going to be all right, Da.  She's got a ways to go, but she's on her way.  Little Darryn is a month old, and boy is he cute!_
> 
> _P.P.S.  I love you.  We all do._

* * *

 

**To Bard from Bain:**

> _Da!_
> 
> _I hit a bullseye in archery practice this week!  Daeron was really impressed.  Then my friends and I got to watch Ada and Daeron spar, then Ada had a go at someone else, and you wouldn’t believe how fast he is!  I’ve only ever seen him with his swords before, but he’s really good with fighting knives, too!  And he’s really good at archery, though he said Legolas is just as good, if not better._
> 
> _I wish I could be fast like Elves, I’m so jealous sometimes.  Ada tells me never to wish to be something I am not, because I need to focus on my own strength and abilities.  He told me some stories of sparring with Girion, and what kind of a soldier and fighter he was.  It isn’t a matter of strength, he says, as much as knowing how my body works and making the most of it, just like Elves and Dwarves do._
> 
> _Rhys smiles all the time now. He had such a good time with his Da.  I wish you could have seen his face when Ada called us into his study, saying he had a surprise for Rhys.  Everybody was grinning from ear to ear!  And those two hugged each other forever.  Ada whispered to us that we should leave the two alone to visit for a few minutes, so we all tiptoed out.   While Rhys’s Da was here, they stayed in set of rooms near us._
> 
> _Hilda said you asked that he might stay with her, but she uses her spare room for meetings and things.  Bronwyn took over one room for her study to go over schoolwork and such._
> 
> _Me and Ada took Rhys and his Da around the Palace to show him around and he was really impressed.  We all had dinner in the Main Dining Hall that night, so Alun and Rhys could visit with everyone, then he got to see the school and everything else._
> 
> _Rhys told me that Alun asked to see his mother and his auntie and Ada said no.  I think that was good.  He still looked pretty mad when he heard about the bruises on his boy and I think he felt like it was his fault for letting Rhys go with them.  Alun and Ada met a few times to talk things out with Auntie Hil, and hopefully everybody feels better._
> 
> _Gotta go!  Its dinner time and I’m hungry!_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Bain_

* * *

 

**To Bard from Tilda:**

> _Deer Da,_
> 
> _I love you.  I miss you.  We had a party.  It was nise.  My spelling is better.  Charlot is good and so is Daisy.  She rides him._
> 
> _We had a party.   Sigrid and Ada dansed._
> 
> _My throt hurts a little bit.  I miss you. I wish yoo were here.  I took a nap._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Tilda_
> 
>  

* * *

 

**To Bard from Hilda,**

> _Greetings King of Dale:_
> 
> _As you can see, Alun survived his trip to the Palace, and has been returned in halfway decent shape!  Thanks for sending him along with the mail caravan.  I don’t mind telling you, I’ve been worried about Rhys.  He’s been so down in the dumps since the whole affair with his Gran that I didn’t know what to do.  Thranduil tried talking to the boy, and it did help some, but what he needed most was his Da._
> 
> _They had a wonderful time while he was here.  He sat with Thranduil and me while the kids were in school and told us about the building and other goings on.  The man put up quite a fuss to see our “prisoners,” but your Elf forbade it, in the nicest way.  He simply urged him to focus on his son while he was here, and said that no one was being mistreated, and you would handle the situation.  After some thought, Alun saw the wisdom in this._
> 
> _Our Sigrid threw quite the party, did you hear?  I loved seeing her tear around with her friends and just be a carefree girl.  That jewelry you all gave her made her feel like a real Princess for the first time since she got the title, and I’ll tell you, she glowed the entire night._
> 
> _It’s funny you should mention colds….  It’s like you jinxed us!  Just this morning, Tilda told your husband her throat hurt and I thought the world was ending the way he tore through the halls to get her to the Healing Wing!  She had been tired and cranky since Sigrid’s party, but it wasn’t until this morning that any real symptoms appeared.  Hannah and the other healer from Dale knew just what to do, and Daeron eased the symptoms a bit._
> 
> _Seems Elves can do wonders for injuries, but they haven’t had much luck with things like this.  Daeron, wanted her separated from the rest of the children, so within an hour, Thranduil had that spare room off the bedroom made up for her, and stated that he would nurse her himself.  Good gracious…  He insists on sitting right next to her and holding her hand while she took her nap._
> 
> _We’ve got handkerchiefs and medicines all ready for the onslaught.  I honestly don’t think it will be as bad this year, Bard.  These kids have had lots of healthy food lately and I think it will prevent much sickness.  Don’t worry, love;  just take care of you, Tauriel and that husband of mine._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Hilda_

* * *

 

**To Percy from Sigrid and Bain:**

> _Hi, Uncle Percy,_
> 
> _It’s just Bain and me writing this time, because this morning Tilda went to Ada and told him her throat hurt.  Tell Da that if he thought Ada had a fit when she lost a tooth, it was nothing to this!  Within an hour, the room off Ada’s room was set up as her sick room and he hasn’t left her side for hardly a second.  Hilda has been doing her best to reassure him that she just has the beginnings of a cold._
> 
> _So far, Bain and I feel fine, so tell Da not to worry.  Tilda has always been susceptible so we’ll probably be all right._
> 
> _I had a wonderful birthday, except you, Da and Tauriel weren’t there.  That would have made it perfect._
> 
> _Alun told us about all the building you’re doing.  With so many Men, Elves and Dwarves working on different houses at once, I can see how fast Dale is growing up out of the ground!_
> 
> _Are you looking after Da?  Is Da looking after you?  How is Tauriel?  I know she always says she’s doing okay, but I know she’s lonely.  Please look after our new sister…_
> 
> _I’ve got to go, sorry.  I’m helping Hannah and Elénaril get things ready for the onslaught of winter colds and sneezes._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Your Sigrid_

 

* * *

> _Uncle Percy!_
> 
> _Did Da tell you I hit the bullseye!  I did!_
> 
> _We got to play outside some when the weather broke and we had this big snowball fight!  All the kids went outside were on one side, and the Elves were on the other!  Rhys and his Da were on our team!  We’ve always lived on water, so we didn’t know too much about things like this.  It was so much fun!_
> 
> _The really little kids got to learn how to make a snowman!  Ada helped Tilda with hers, but he could only stay for a little bit because he had lots of meetings._
> 
> _Right now, Auntie Hil is having it out with Ada, because Tilda’s getting a cold, and he thinks it’s because she played outside with the rest of us.  Don’t worry, he just doesn’t understand these things and she’ll set him straight.  She told him that the kids will actually be healthier because we’re not on the water anymore and we’re eating a lot better, so she tells him not to worry._
> 
> _I don’t know if he really believes her, or if he’s just afraid to argue with her, but don’t tell him I said that!_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Bain_

* * *

 

 **To Tauriel from Sigrid:**   

> _Dear Tauriel,_
> 
> _Hello big sister!  I hope you’ve been looking after Da and Uncle Percy, but mostly I’m hoping you’re taking care of YOU!  I love having a big sister!  I just hate that, as soon as I got you, we had to leave!  But we’ve been here six weeks already, so there’s proof that at least part of this endless winter has passed._
> 
> _As I’m sure you’ve heard, Tilda has a bit of a cold.  Poor Ada’s not taking it very well.  I feel bad for him – he’s never been around sickness, but it’s so cute to see him fussing over her, and trust me, she is eating it up.  She’s got him wrapped around her little finger!  Ada wanted to cancel his meetings until she was better, but Auntie Hil put her foot down and order Galion to drag him to his study, and make him stay there so Tilda could get her rest.  _
> 
> _I think Galion loves Auntie Hil and Uncle Percy as much as we do.  He loves watching her boss Ada around, and I think Ada likes it too, although he pretends not to._
> 
> _It’s nice being part of a big family, and I can’t wait for us all to be together again._
> 
> _Love, Sigrid_

* * *

 

 **To Percy from Hilda:**  

> _Hello my husband,_
> 
> _Life has settled into a routine, as much as it can be.  The winter is in full swing, and some of the children have colds.  I’m not worried.  These bairns have filled out and their cheeks are rosy from all the good food the Elves have given them, and they are warm, now.  Really warm!  I know there are some who miss Laketown, but I don't.  How could anyone miss the constant chill of living over a frozen Lake?  And the ache in the bones from all that damp?  Nope.  Never again for me.  My hips have not hurt nearly as much and neither do my hands._
> 
> _The orphans seem to be settling in, too.   I go and see each new family about once a week, to make sure, and Thranduil’s little “spy” has been sure to pass on any comment to us, so we're sure the kids are adjusting.  Bronwyn has a desk in my quarters, now, She's busy overseeing the school, and planning for when we move back in the spring.  I oversee our people and I oversee the supplies needed for the Dale folk.  She only works with me part-time, as she also teaches the older group of children._
> 
> _We’ve also organized several meetings for the new Elven parents, to teach them about human children, and to let them ask questions about things that have come up.  The little ones seem happy in their new homes, but they still miss their birth parents, and these Elves want to know how to help them with that, bless them.  Galion has been a big help with this, and even gave a lecture on helping children through grief.  He urged the Foster-Parents to allow the children to refer to them however they were comfortable, not to insist on “Ada and Nana” but to allow them to come to it naturally._
> 
> _Our kids call Galion "Uncle” now, and I swear, love, if that Elf had buttons on his chest, they’d be popping off!  He pretends it doesn’t mean much, but you should see his face when no one’s looking._
> 
> _Oh, good gravy!  I’ve got to go--Tilda has a cold and she just sneezed again.  Every time she lets out a peep, Thranduil tears out of his study to her room like something’s on fire.  How many times do I have to tell him she’s not dying?_
> 
> _If it wasn’t so ridiculous it would be cute…_
> 
> _I love you and miss you,_
> 
> _Your Hil_

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard is surprised to find how hard it is to adjust to his "new" body - and sometimes, he really misses the way things used to be.
> 
> Alun and Bard sit down to have an important conversation, which will help set the tone for Bard's Kingship, and how neighboring countries (not to mention his own people) might perceive Dale's newest King. 
> 
> Bard, and the Men and Elves in the Great Hall learn a harsh lesson about Thangon's dietary needs...
> 
> Later, Thranduil has sent Bard some presents - he especially loves what's in the second package! 
> 
> And letters arrive at the Palace from Dale!

 

**4 th of February, 2942, T.A.**

 

“Again!”  Feren called, “Faster! Very good, Lord Bard,” Feren said.  “Your blocking is much quicker, and you are learning to be more conservative in your movements.  As you can see, it isn’t always a matter of having strength; it’s learning to control it, and increase your endurance.” 

~o0o~

> Bard had been working privately with Tauriel and Feren almost daily, in a building apart from the Great Hall, to gauge the changes in him since his marriage, and Bard had the arduous task of learning to control his new abilities.  Feren had consulted with the Chief Healer, and they decided the first thing Bard needed to do was improve his endurance by running.  As fit and muscular as Bard was, there had been no opportunity for prolonged intense activity on the walkways of Laketown, so the Healer wanted to check Bard’s heart and lungs to make sure his body could handle the adjustment. 
> 
> The Healer admitted he found Bard’s situation fascinating and wanted to study the effects closely.
> 
> Bard began formal sword training the same way Bain had - learning forms until they were so imbedded in his muscles and his mind, that they were second nature.  Most of these forms were blocking moves, and slowly, Bard was getting the hang of it, though it was a tiring, and oftentimes frustrating, process. 

~o0o~

 Bard and Feren were practicing with their swords all morning, and the King of Dale was fed up with feeling like an inadequate beginner.  The Commander was correct in is assessment: at present, he’d be a liability in battle, and this thought _infuriated_ him!

Feren came at him over and over with his practice sword, and Bard met and blocked his every blow, until the last one, when, _again,_ Bard judged his movements by the way his body _used to be._   There was more power in his swing than needed, and smacked himself in the ribs.

 _“Shit!”_ Bard swore at the top of his lungs, _“Boody fuck!”_ and threw his sword across the room, its clatter echoing in the empty hall, as he grabbed his middle.  “Feren, I feel like a complete fucking novice!  How many times have I swung this damned thing only to hit myself with it?  I’m _fucking_ covered in bruises, and I _hate_ feeling so out of control!"  His angry words culminated into a scream of absolute fury:   _ **"**_ _IDON’TFUCKINGKNOWMYSELFANYMORE! **”**_

The Bowman stomped away to the other side of the hall, and paced back and forth for a few minutes, to try and cool his temper, by taking deep breaths.  It wasn't Bard's way to give into anger like this, and it scared him.  

Feren regarded him patiently for a moment or two, then said, “Please wait here, My Lord.  I shall be back momentarily.” And exited.

Bard was still pacing and breathing, when Feren returned, carrying two mugs and a large pitcher of ale.  The Commander set the tankards down on the small table set up in the corner, poured out, and sat, as he waited for Bard to calm down.

Eventually, Bard made his way over, and took the mug Feren handed to him.  He sat down, and they drank in silence for a little while.

After staring down at his cup for several minutes, Bard said, “I apologize, Feren.  I don’t mean to take this out on you.” 

“I am sorry for your frustration.  I cannot imagine what this must be like for you."

Bard huffed out a small laugh.  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad Thranduil’s not here.”

Feren looked at him, surprised.  “My Lord?”

Bard sighed.  “Don’t get me wrong.  It’s just…  I hate all this, and if Thranduil were to see me so frustrated, he'd think I regretted marrying him.  At least with you, I can work through it, until I get the hang of it.  You don't take any of this personally."

The Commander nodded his agreement. “You will soon learn to be comfortable with this new strength, but in the meantime, it must feel… foreign.”

“It feels like there’s someone else moving my arms and legs, and they end up in places I don’t intend!”  Bard spat out, before he took another long drink.  “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“The only way around this problem is keep at it, Bard; I wish I had a different answer.”  Feren tried to reassure him.

But Bard didn’t feel reassured.  He was frightened.  “You know, the sword work isn’t even the worst of it.  I hadn’t done it that much before the Battle, so, believe it or not, that’s easier.  But…” he sighed, and continued in a sad voice:

“I was born to be an _Archer,_ Feren, and I was _good_ at it."  

~o0o~ 

> His first attempts with his bow were disastrous.  Something that had been instinctual, an extension of who he was, now felt foreign, and it was driving Bard mad.  First, the string of his bow had to be adjusted, to accommodate his new strength.  Then, Tauriel had him practice nocking his arrow, over and over again, as he learned speed and control.  His first shots at a target were wild and wide and he made full use of every curse word he could think of.   Several times, he had to walk away to get himself under control.
> 
> The archery skills that he had taken such pride in, were _gone,_ and he deeply mourned that loss. 

~o0o~

Bard stood back up, and paced back and forth, again. 

“I got my first bow when I was six years old, and I’ve loved it ever since, Feren.   When my Mam died, shooting made me feel better.  When Da died, hours and hours hitting targets got me through it.  It was the same, when my wife died.  Archery has always been like breathing, and I feel like I lost one of the most important parts of myself."  Bard stopped his pacing, and looked at Feren, sadly.  "As much as I love Thranduil, and my new life with him, I feel so...lost, like there's a huge part of me missing, now.  I don't know if I'll ever get it back, and I'm scared of what that could do to me." 

Feren poured him another glass of ale.  “You were right to take great pride in your skills.  From what I have seen, you were magnificent."

Bard looked stricken.  “All those years in Laketown, when I had so much taken away from me, my parents, my wife….  I had hardly anything, barely enough for my own children, and a Master who took and took and took… I felt so helpless, Feren.  But my skill with a bow, was something _no one_ could take from me.  It was _mine._   Mine! It was all I had, besides the children.  It made me feel like I had some control over my life, something I could feel proud of; I could feel like a man, when I hit all those targets.  And now…it’s all gone.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Bard, truly.”

“I didn’t expect to feel this way.  Thranduil tried to warn me.  He said, ‘Everything you ever expected about your life will change, and there will be no going back.’” Bard looked to the floor.

Feren tilted his head thoughtfully, “Do you regret joining with him?”

Bard’s head whipped up, “NO!  Never - I didn’t mean it like that.  I just…”  He sighed.  “I didn’t know how much I would mourn for what I once was,” he whispered. 

Feren looked concerned.  “I understand.  It may not seem like it, to you, Bard, but you have made vast improvements.  Tauriel and I can see that.”

“But it won’t be _me,_ anymore. It isn't the same."

“You are wrong, Bard!" Feren gave him a stern look.  "It _will_ be you.  I know you are tired and frustrated, but this _IS_ you!  This is who you are _now_.”  The Commander told him, firmly.  “I know you miss the way your body used to feel, but that is because you have barely scratched the surface of this incredible gift you have been given; this is only temporary.”

“Aye.” Bard said, after a few minutes.  “You’re right; it does no good to wallow.  I’m just having a bad moment.” He forced a smile.

Feren raised his eyebrow.  “And the way to work through this is?”

“Get up off my arse and back at it.”

“Good answer, My Lord.  In any case, you will have a reprieve - from me, at least.  I am scheduled to visit my family when the wagons return to the Palace in two days.”  Feren grinned.

“Thank the Valar!” Bard laughed.  “I’m just joking.  You must be anxious to see them, now that they’re settled in.”

The Commander grinned.  “Oh, I am!  I miss my wife, of course, and I miss the girls very much.  I hope they remember me.”

“I’m sure they will.  It might take a little while for them to warm up after such a long absence, but those little ones adore you.  And I’ve seen the way your wife looks at you.  You’re a lucky Elf.”

“I am, My Lord.  I thank the Valar for her every day.”

“I know the feeling.”  Bard put his mug down, and wiped his mustache.  “Well, let’s get back to work."

They both got up and went to the center of the large, empty hall. “We will work no more with swords today.  I need to see your jumps, and this time, I want to see how high you can get, before you tuck and roll…  Go!”

Bard and Feren worked another hour on his jumps.  _Bless him,_ Bard thought.   The Commander pulled him out of his melancholy, by having him work on a new skill he _did_ enjoy.  As he reached new heights, he learned to flip forwards, backwards, half twists, before landing on his feet perfectly.  Feren showed him how to run up the walls and flip, and soon he was too occupied to feel sorry for himself. 

Bard would never regret marrying Thranduil, but he was thankful it was Feren and Tauriel working with him, here.  It was vain, he knew, but he hated the idea of his Warrior-King seeing him so clumsy and inadequate.

It was the _only_ good thing about this long separation. 

 

Later, after spending the afternoon with the building crews, Bard was returning to the Square in front of the Great Hall; just in time to see the wagons from the Woodland Realm pull up.  Bard went over and took some of the packages and the box of letters from the Elven messenger, and called to Alun who was unloading his luggage. 

“Welcome home!  How's Rhys?” Bard called to Alun, as he struggled with the box, along packages, until an Elf came to help him carry them.

“Thank you, My Lord.  Rhys is good, thanks to you and King Thranduil.  The others had a good time, too.” He jerked his head toward the wagon.  All the returning visitors carried their bags into the Hall, and looked relaxed and ready to get back to the work of building a city.

“That they do.  I’m glad the weather’s cooperating, so we can keep up with the schedule.  That Palace is a sight; I’d hate for any of them to miss it.”

Alun agreed.  “I’ll never forget it.  Everyone is making the most of their time there, and those Elves have worked hard to help them and help educate the children.  Lord Galion gave me rooms next to his, and Rhys stayed with me, but he was excited to show me where he’s been staying, and told me about their schooling and the fun they have with the King in the evenings.”

“Thranduil and the children enjoy having him.”

“Aye, I can see that, and I’m grateful.  He didn’t have to take him in; he could have sent him to stay somewhere else, but he treats Rhys like he belongs there. And my boy feels comfortable.”

“Happy to hear it.”

As they made their way into Bard’s study, Alun asked for a few moments to speak to him.

“Of course, if you can help me sort.”

They worked together, then Alun said.  “My Lord, what will become of my mother and my Aunt, come spring? 

Bard looked at the man and became serious.  “They’ll face trial.  Not a big one, because most of the problem was taken care of in the Woodland Realm.  I’d hope if the Elves treat them with some kindness and patience, they’d reflect some on what made them that way, and my reports from the King seem to reflect that.  I’m not just doing this for them; I have _all_ my people to think about.  Those two cause problems for everyone.  If they can learn to be less venomous, everyone benefits.”

Alun considered.  “You’re right.  They did real damage, and we can’t afford that.  Not when Dale is trying to get started.”

“In King Thranduil’s last letter to me, he brought up something you and I hadn’t thought about, Alun.  Even if those women have a miraculous change of heart - which I don’t think will happen…”

“And neither do I.” Alun affirmed.

Bard agreed.  “Our people are a fairly forgiving bunch, and that’s something I’m proud of. But a child has been abused, and so have two young girls.  No one is likely to overlook that, and really, no one should. In the spring, they will face not just me, but our people, too.  As a King, my rule is absolute, but I always want to consider what my people need and how they feel.  It doesn’t look good for your mother and aunt, and this could put me in a position I don’t really want to be in.”

Alun thought for a few moments.  “A trial would be hard on Rhys.  He’s been through enough.  They’ve been put away, so Rhys has had justice; nobody got away anything.  But what now?”

Bard answered, thoughtfully. “Thranduil suggested setting them up somewhere away from Dale, such as Dorwinian.  There are those who think they deserve prison - and they aren't wrong, mind you - but don’t the people of Dale want to be better than this?  On the other hand, if they’re going to do more harm than good here, then our people have the right to want them gone.”

“We could offer them a deal, My Lord.”  Alun suggested.

“What kind of a deal?” Bard was curious.

“I have distant relatives in Bree.  We could explain to Mam and Aunt Iona that they have a choice:  Either face our people and the shame of a public trial, and prison, or, go to Bree.  If they come back,  _everything_ will be taken away, and they will be left at the Gates with the clothes on their backs.”

Bard sat back, and thought about this.  “What’s Bree like?” 

“It’s near the Shire, but it’s rougher place.  There are some good folk there, but the cost of living isn’t expensive at all.  It would take little to set them up there.  My Lord, I don’t think you can chance putting them in prison; if word gets around to neighboring countries that the new King of Dale imprisons old women, you’d be branded a tyrant and no better than the old Master.

“I hate how political that sounds, but you’re right.” Bard sighed. “I need to prove that I’m not only a just King, but can be a merciful one.”

 Alun nodded.  “It _would_ be mercy, My Lord.  My grandfather was…” he let out a deep breath, “a _monster,_ and I’ve wondered if the abuse of his daughters went beyond whippings.  There were rumors that my grandmother died young because she was injured, not ill.”

“You mean, he was like Rhian’s husband?”

“Aye, My Lord.  That bastard twisted them up beyond repair. Maybe the only way they could live with it, was to convince themselves that this was proper.  I think, if they admitted how wrong their father was, the pain of it could destroy them.”  Alun gave his King a sad smile.  "Problem is, they're already wrecked, and they can't face it.  I should hate them for it, but I pity them, really."

Bard sat back and steepled his fingers against his mouth.  “It’s hard to think about, but you have a point.  Ina and Iola are victims, too.”

“It doesn’t excuse _anything_ they’ve said or done, My Lord.  Nothing could do that, and they should be made to answer for their actions.  But, compared to what they were used to, living in Bree will be a just punishment.” 

“…and Bree is far, far away.” Bard smiled.  “Maybe I’m inflicting my problems on another place, but this could be a way for them to make a fresh start.  Everyone could benefit; even those two, if they choose to see this as an opportunity.  If they go there, I’ll write the Lord Mayor and tell him about them, so he could keep an eye on them.  This is a good solution, Alun.  Thank you.”

“No, My Lord, thank _you.”_ Alun was earnest.  “No one has more cause to want to see them punished severely than I do.  But they’re my kin, and wishing harm on them would turn me into something I hate; I’d be too much like them.  I’ve worked _hard_ to rise above what how I grew up.  I can’t go back to that kind of hate, even if my King wishes it.”

“I’d never ask you to do that, Alun.”  Bard told him.  “At any rate, nothing needs to be decided for months yet, and we’ve got loads to worry about now.”  Bard smiled at his Treasurer.  “Dale is going to benefit through your work, and I’d like to you to be on my Council, if you’d consider it.”

“I’d be honored.  It’s a pleasure to work for someone who truly cares about his people.  You’re everything the Master wasn’t, and we’re lucky to have you as King.”

“Oh, enough flattery,” Bard smiled, with a wave of his hand.  He got up and went to the door and called for Percy, who came in.

“Oh, good!  The letters have come!” the Steward of Dale cried.  “Tauriel, where are you?”

The Elf came hurrying down the corridor.  Then they all sat down and got to work.

 

Later that night, he finally got his bath, and retired to his room, where he opened the mail from his family.  He always did it this way, so he’d have something to look forward to, rather then facing another night alone.  Sitting cross-legged in his bed, with the stacks of letters in front of him, he smiled and dug in. 

Thangon had just settled down beside him, with a huff, after wiggling around to get himself comfortable.  Thangon’s snoring didn’t bother Bard, anymore, but last week, they both made a rather unhappy discovery. 

 _Lembas_ wasn’t the only thing that made the huge dog fart. 

~o0o~

> The cooks in the kitchen had been trying out a recipe from Erebor:  Bombur’s version of Bean soup with Ham.  The Dwarves (and Thangon) _loved_ it, but many of the men didn’t, and surreptitiously put their bowls on the floor for the dog, rather than face the cook’s wrath.  
> 
> Bard had woken up in the night, thinking something had _died._  “What the…  _Ugh_!”  He lit the lamp, and looked over at his sleeping bedmate.  Thangon was in his usual position; sprawled his back, tongue lolling, and snoring away in bliss.  Then, loud noise erupted from Thangon’s hind end, and the room was filled with a smell so bad, Bard nearly passed out. “Ulmo’s balls, Thangon!  What in Mordor’s wrong with you?” Bard had to hold his nose.
> 
> The noise frightened the poor dog awake, with a yelp.  He jumped on the floor and tried to sniff his arse, and figure things out.  He couldn’t quite reach his bum, so he turned around it tight circles, hoping to catch whatever it was that was made those noises, and kill it.
> 
> Bard grabbed Thangon’s collar, and muttered sarcastically under his breath all the way down the hall.  “ _’Here’s a dog,’_  he said.  _‘He’s sooo smart,’_  he said.  _‘He’ll be good company,’_  he said...  That bloody Elf  _was_ pranking me, and I'll get him if that's the last thing I do...”  He sighed.  “Come on, Thangon.  _I_  wasn't the who fed you that slop, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to suffer for it!”  He took the huge beast to the Great Hall, ordered him to stay with the other men.  Then he grabbed a pillow and blankets and slept in his office.
> 
> By morning, two problems were solved at once:  No one would _ever_ feed Thangon beans again, and the kitchen staff would _never_ make that awful soup again.

~o0o~ 

Now, as he relaxed in his sleeping clothes, Bard smiled at the letters from the children and tried not to feel bad about missing Sigrid’s birthday.  Her descriptions of her party sounded wonderful, and he wished he could see her in all her finery. 

He felt concern about Tilda’s sore throat; she usually didn’t throw off things like that as easily as her sister and brother did.  Bain seemed to be having a good time with Rhys; he was always enthusiastic.  Once he was done reading letters from the rest of the family, he opened the flat package from his husband, and gasped.  

It was a watercolor painting of Sigrid, in her new red dress and jewelry.  She looked so grownup, with her hair piled on top of her head, with her tiara and her matching necklace.  She was sitting in a chair with her hand tucked under her chin, showing off her bracelet, too. 

 _Oh, Thranduil had captured his girl_ _perfectly._   His eyes swam, as he gently traced the lines of his daughter’s face.  This was a young woman, and such a beautiful one, with kind eyes, a strong chin, and the true bearing of her Royal Lineage. 

He thought of his Mattie, and smiled. “You’d be so proud of our girl, love,” he whispered. “I wish you could see her.”

After he lovingly set the painting on his fireplace mantel, he opened the thick letter from his husband, smiling as he read Thranduil’s beautiful, flowing script.  There was a Post Script, and another letter tucked inside.  Curious, he broke the seal, quickly unfolding the contents.  

 _“Bloody fuck!”_ He gasped, as his eyes bugged out.

Bard’s face turned beet red when he saw the sketch his husband and sent; Thranduil and Bard were naked and entwined, just as they had been the night of their joining.  Thranduil was above him, and in him, and the smooth outline of his legs were tucked under Bard’s hips, and the muscles of their thighs were tensed.  

Bard’s muscular arms were holding onto his shoulders, digging into the flesh.  His own legs were wrapped around Thranduil’s waist, pulling him inside as far as he could go; filling him with his throbbing, hot cock, and Bard’s face showed how much he loved it.   Thranduil’s face above his, was full of love and rapture, as he was looking deeply into Bard’s eyes.  There was Bard, looking up at his Elf with the same bliss on his face.   

His Elf spared no detail in this drawing, for modesty’s sake.  There was the smooth, beautiful skin in the outlines of the curve of his hips, and the flex of his muscles as he thrust into Bard.  And his hand was around Bard’s cock, an instant before he exploded in ecstasy.  Somehow, Thranduil managed to capture the light and magic of the moment their _fëas_ became One.

 _“Ulmo's balls…”_ Bard croaked, his eyes were still bugging out, and he felt his cock harden, with a jolt.

The dog was immediately put out, and his door was locked for at least two hours. 

 

* * *

 

**LETTERS FROM DALE**

 

 

 **To Thranduil from Bard:**    

> _Hello Love,_
> 
> _I hear you’ve been fussing over our Little Bean!  How is she?  From what I’ve heard from everyone, it doesn’t seem to be much to worry about, but I understand your uneasiness, love.  You’ve never been around sick children, and seeing our little one, with a red and runny nose must be upsetting.  It’s hard, even for me to see my children sick, so I can only imagine what it’s like for you.  Listen to Hilda, love, and let me know if anything gets serious._
> 
> _Now, as for the *ahem* picture of you… My King, I highly commend your artistic talent.  Your last picture was a pleasant surprise…  I can “see” how much you miss me, and I didn’t get much sleep, after.  That should tell you how much I enjoyed it.  Have I mentioned, in the last ten minutes, how much I miss you, and your ‘Elf Thing?’_
> 
> _Thranduil, my love, I can’t tell you how much that picture of Sigrid means to me, wearing our gifts.   She’s growing into her own person, and she is so beautiful.  I would’ve given anything to be there.  Sigrid told me about your special dance at the party, and I picture it.  Our girl with her proud Ada.  What a moment for you! _
> 
> _I can imagine her face at the table when she opened her present.  That box Dáin sent to put the set in was perfect, wasn’t it?_
> 
> _Speaking of Dáin, the King Under the Mountain stopped by last week, for some business, and asked how our girl’s birthday went.  I gave him the thank-you note from Sigrid, and shared the story of the party.  Then I took him to my chambers, and showed him your painting, sitting proudly on the mantel._
> 
> _Now, I’m not going to say that the rugged, tough, Dwarf King got mushy, but he certainly had to clear his throat a lot.  His own family will be coming in the spring, and he misses them terribly. His son will stay to rule the Iron Hill but his wife will come with his two other daughters.  He also said Oakenshield’s sister will be coming.  She’s now ruler of the Blue Mountains, so she won’t be staying, but she wants to see Erebor again in all its glory, and visit her brother’s and sons’ graves._
> 
> _Tauriel is nervous about it; she’s afraid Dí_ _s will hate her because of Kili._
> 
> _I can’t say whether she’ll hate Tauriel or not, but I want to thank her for her sons’ bravery and consideration toward my people.  I will also make a point to tell her how Tauriel saved her son’s life repeatedly.  The fact that our girl has been named a Friend of the Dwarves says a lot, so I’m optimistic._
> 
> _My edict regarding teaching our women defense-training is this: Absolutely, and right away!  Our women and even girls, deserve to know how to protect themselves, so if you Elves can spare the time, do it.   As always, love, thank you for looking out for my people._
> 
> _As you can see, this shipment from Dale includes your favorite Elven Commander and mine.  He deserves a vacation!  He and I work together for several hours each day, and I know he’s been very patient with me.  I couldn’t ask for a better trainer.  He and Tauriel don’t have an easy task.  But things are improving, so they tell me, and you’ll be pleased, the next time you see me._
> 
> _I’ll be along in three more weeks, barring a snowstorm.  Stars, I miss you!  I’m tired of writing it, and tired of thinking it!_
> 
> _Building in Dale proceeds apace.  Several houses are finished!  Others are being worked on at once, and Old Ben has been worth his weight in gold, overseeing and coordinating all the crews._
> 
> _“Kinging” also proceeds apace.  Alun, Percy and I have worked out a system of allocating funds to help set up different businesses in Dale, and ways to get our economy growing.  Alun, our Chief Treasurer works diligently with this.  He’s a good man, and a hard-working one.  Please tell Rhys I’m proud to have him working for Dale._
> 
> _I thank the Eru and the Valar for allowing us to fall in love, and be together.  It’s natural to wish the same for those we care about, but much of that isn’t for us to decide.  I wish I had the answers, because I agree with your sentiments._
> 
> _You might be right about Eärendil’s blessing the night of the funeral; you said you felt something shift. See what the Wizard thinks, love.  Write him in the spring._
> 
> _Gi melin, Thranduil.  Always._
> 
> _Bard_

 

* * *

 

 **To Sigrid from Bard:**  

> _Hello, My Grownup Girl:_
> 
> _I’m so glad you like your birthday presents!  I saw there was a letter from you addressed to King Dáin in this shipment, so rest assured I have given it to him, and told him all about your party.  I also showed him your painting (which is beautiful, by the way), and he was very touched to see you._
> 
> _I hope your lessons at school are going well, and also with the Healers, but I hope you make time to be a young girl and have some fun.  You had to grow up so fast, but now that things have changed for all of us, I want you to take time to go off with your friends and play._
> 
> _Your loving Da_

 

* * *

**To Bain from Bard:**

> _Hello, My Boy,_
> 
> _Good for you on all the archery practice.  People think it’s so easy, don’t they?  I hate that I haven’t had much time to work with you myself, but life gets in the way of many things we’d rather do._
> 
> _Don’t be jealous of the Elves, son.  Thranduil’s right, it’s a waste to wish you could be something you’re not.  I had a talk with Feren the other day, about the exact same thing, when we practiced with swords.  He reminded me that a good warrior has to work hard to understand his abilities, and make the most of them.  Do this, son, and your instincts will never let you down._
> 
> _That’s exactly what I would tell you if I was there.  I see you’re not calling him ‘Thranduil’ any more.  That’s good, but we both want you to only do things like that if you’re completely comfortable, all right?_
> 
> _I hope you and Rhys are enjoying yourselves.  Seems he and his Da had a great visit; at least that’s what Alun said.  Don’t worry about not seeing his grandmother and aunt.  You and Rhys just leave that for the grownups.  All you need to worry about is doing good in school, practice, and behaving for Thranduil, Galion and your Auntie Hil._
> 
> _I love you, son.  I hope to come visit soon, if the weather cooperates._
> 
> _Your loving Da_

* * *

 **To Tilda from Bard:**   

> _Hey Little Bean!_
> 
> _I heard you don’t feel good, love.  I also heard he moved you into the nursery.  How do you like having a room of your very own?_
> 
> _I hate hearing that you’re sick, and I can’t be the one to take care of you!  Let your Ada make as much of a fuss over you as he wants, Beanie.  He’s not used to things like this, so if spoiling you a little helps him feel better about it, then just be patient with him._
> 
> _I wish I could’ve seen how pretty you looked at the party.  What color was your dress?  Did you dance with your Ada?  How about your Uncle Galion?_
> 
> _Now, if you’re still feeling poorly, you just keep taking as many naps as you need.  Tell Charlotte and Daisy to sing to you, and you’ll go right to sleep!_
> 
> _I love you, Beanie._
> 
> _Da_

* * *

 **From Bard to Hilda:**  

> _Dear Hil,_
> 
> _Make sure you’re looking after yourself, all right?  You’ve been pretty tired, and that means you could get sick, too, so make sure you get enough rest.  That’s an order from your King, by the way._
> 
> _Since I opened the letters from you all, I’ve spoken to Alun about his mother and his aunt.  I told him, that Thranduil couldn’t override my decree about no visitors without prior consent, but I think it worked out better that way.  He needed to focus on his son, and let them be my problem. These ladies need to stew for a while, and be forced to think on their actions and attitudes._
> 
> _Can you write and tell me how Rhian is getting on?  I’ve been wondering, and I like to pass on information to Old Ben. He knows she can’t read or write yet, so it would be good if he could get some updates._
> 
> _So, Hilda, our oldest is sixteen years old!!  I can’t believe it.  I remember the first time I saw her in Mattie’s arms, and you bustling about the room, fussing over the both of them.  That girl is just as much yours and Percy’s as she is mine.  No two people could be better for our family._
> 
> _I’m sorry I ‘jinxed’ you about the colds…_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Bard_

* * *

 

 **To Sigrid, Bain and Tilda from Percy:**  

> _Hey Sea Monsters!_
> 
> _Little Bean, you were too sick to write me a letter!  Poor baby.  You tell that Elf King to take good care of you, you hear?  I’m glad you got to play in the snow.  See if you can draw me a picture of your snowman, would you?_
> 
> _Playing in the snow, wasn’t something we had much of a chance to do in Laketown, did we?  Life is different on land.  I’ll bet the forest looks really pretty with snow on all the trees, doesn’t it?_
> 
> _Sigrid, our grownup girl!  Your Da showed me a picture of you, and I told him he had it wrong!  Our Sigrid is still only little, with her hair in pigtails and scraped knees!  Who was the grownup young lady?_
> 
> _Bain, great work in your archery, and Rhys is every bit as good.   Have you kids been keeping up with your schoolwork?_
> 
> _The story you told me about Thranduil and your Auntie Hil made me laugh, and don’t worry.  I won’t tell a soul._
> 
> _Oh!  I’ve got a funny story to tell you!  Do you remember be telling you about your Da’s dog and what happens when we feed him Lembas?_
> 
> _Well, let me tell you, we all learned the hard way not to give him beans either.  I’m happy to report that our cook has sworn to all of us, he’ll never make bean soup again!  Your poor Da!  And this time, it wasn’t my fault! Ha!_
> 
> _Love_
> 
> _Uncle Percy_

 

* * *

 

 **To Sigrid, Bain and Tilda from Tauriel:**  

> _Dear Sigrid,_
> 
> _I have been taking good care of your father and your Uncle Percy.  We all look after each other.  Thangon follows your Da around everywhere he goes and keeps him from getting too lonely.  My cat is a wonderful companion this winter._
> 
> _I wish I could have played outside with you all in the snow.  It is one of my favorite things to do.  I especially like snowball fights!  Legolas and I used to play when I was small, and he always let me win._
> 
> _There is little to do when the weather gets too bad, so practice weaponry with the others and help with the building interiors.  It is going well, but things will pick up speed a great deal when we get a break in the weather._
> 
> _I wanted to mention, Sigrid.  I think Old Ben needs some socks.  I’ve noticed them hanging on his fireplace, and they have holes in them.  Do you think you and perhaps Hilda could make him some?  He could use some hats and such.   I think he is either too proud to get some from the things the Elves send, or he doesn’t want anyone else to go without._
> 
> _He is a dear man, and I think he would like these things, even though he has not asked for them._
> 
> _Please look after yourselves, and tell Ada I said hello._
> 
> _Much love,_
> 
> _Tauriel_

* * * 

 

> _Hello, Bain,_
> 
> _So, you hit a bullseye!  Your Uncle Percy told me, and I am very proud of you.  You have much of your father’s natural ability; I could see that from the beginning.  I hear Rhys is doing just as well, if not better.  That’s all right.  Do not try to compete with him so much as with yourself.  Daeron is still working with the swords, I am told, and soon, once you are fairly proficient with them, we will add fighting knives to the lessons.  I look forward to that when spring comes._
> 
> _Your description of Ada fussing over Tilda is quite funny.  I hope she is feeling better, and that you and Sigrid do not get sick._
> 
> _I must go; it is time for your father and I to practice.  Hope to hear from you soon._
> 
> _Tauriel_

 

* * *

> _Dear Tilda,_
> 
> _I am sorry to hear you are sick._ _Is Ada taking good care of you?_
> 
> _I saw the picture of Sigrid that Ada painted for her birthday.  I did not hear about the pretty dress you wore to the party.  Perhaps when you are well enough for me to write, you can tell me about it!  Better yet, draw me a picture.  I imagine you were so beautiful Ada and Uncle Galion danced with you, didn’t they?_
> 
> _Please feel better soon, and we shall be together again before you know it!_
> 
> _Love, Tauriel_

 

* * *

 **To Galion from Tauriel:**  

> _Suilad, Galion,_
> 
> _I am hearing good things about your devotion to my new brother and sisters.  It gladdens my heart, for you did so well with me.  You have a gift with children, Galion, and I hope Sigrid, Bain and Tilda bring you much joy._
> 
> _I have also heard about the sickness, and I, like you became very upset, but Bard assures me that it is only a ‘cold.’  I do not know too much about these things, but I trust his judgement.  If anything, Lady Hilda most likely has things well in hand._
> 
> _My days here are very different than when I lived in the Woodland Realm.  I miss home a great deal of the time, yes, but these experiences with new people, are interesting, and often entertaining.  I have visited Erebor again since the last letter, just overnight, and I enjoyed myself._
> 
> _Being there makes me understand who Kili was, and I like that very much.  I have spoken with Ada about how love can be sudden, and that seems to be the case with me.  Dwalin has shared several stories of his upbringing with me; most of them were amusing.  One would think it would make me sad to hear them, but surprisingly, it only brings me closer and I feel peaceful.  I wish I understood how I could so instantly fall in love with Kili, or he for me, but I do not think anyone has an answer for these types of things._
> 
> _Galion, I have not said this to anyone, but I hope I do not love Kili like this forever.   If my love for hum was truly something the Valar brought to me, I see little point for it, except to rob me of a chance to have a family of my own.  I do not mean to be selfish; nor do I want more than what has been given to any other Elf._
> 
> _Maybe someday I can find an answer to that._
> 
> _Please be well.  You are dearer to me than any Uncle I could possibly have._
> 
> _Much affection,_
> 
> _Tauriel_

* * *

 **To Hilda from Percy:**  

> _To my  fierce, loving wife:_
> 
> _So…  Our kids are sniffling and sneezing, eh?  I say that because I’m sure by now, all three of them, plus Rhys is giving you all fits.   Children are wonderful, but it’s times like these I’m sort of glad you’re there, and I’m here.  I love you all dearly, but I hate seeing them sick; I always have._
> 
> _Just you take care of yourself, you hear?  You just got your strength back and I don’t want to be hearing that you are wearing yourself to a frazzle again!_
> 
> _I think those meetings for the new parents is a good idea.  There’s a lot to having kids - you and I helped raise three plus looking after our Bard – but to have children of a different race requires a lot of understanding.  Galion’s a good egg.  He’s another one who didn’t have blood children, but he’s a parent, nonetheless._
> 
> _I’ve got an idea, if you’re agreeable, about those foster-parents.  Do you think the new mothers could be paired with another mother from Dale?  Someone to answer all the thousands of questions that come up.  It might be a way to go.  How about some of the older folks with no family anymore.  Setting them up to be a ‘foster-grandparents’ could make them feel like they’re a part of something, too.  I think about old Gruffudd, in particular, and how Feren and Glélindë took him in just as much as the little girls._
> 
> _Anyway, I’m sure you’ll do you best be everyone.  Just take care.  If Thranduil wants to fuss over the kids, I suppose there’s no stopping him.  Just let him, I think.  He’s realizing how much he missed out when his own were that young, and I think this is his way of trying to right a wrong.  We can’t help him with the time lost, but he might be afraid to miss any more._
> 
> _I love you very much, love.  I always have, since the day I laid eyes on you, all those years ago, and you’re every bit as beautiful as you were then._
> 
> _Your Percy_

 

* * *

 **To Thranduil from Tauriel:**   

> _Suilad Ada,_
> 
> _Time has slowed here, and I am enjoying a winter without hunting spiders, if you don’t mind my saying.  I help the men with building when I’m off duty, and guarding Bard is fairly easy most days.  He spends a great deal of his time in his study, either in meetings, writing documents and letters or he reads in his chambers.  He and Thangon go everywhere together, and you’ll be pleased to know that the dog takes his job as guard seriously._
> 
> _The dog is very popular, and some are asking when he can be used as a stud to get some of their own pups.  I do not know what to tell them, so I have referred them to you, when you return in the spring.  We have also discovered, unfortunately, that Thangon has the same reaction to ham and bean soup as with Lembas.  Your husband made sure to punish those who cooked it (it was terrible) and all those who fed it to the poor dog._
> 
> _I have been told you are turning into quite the nursemaid for Tilda!  I understand your concern.  Please write to me and let me know how they are, and how you are coping.  I enjoy hearing how concerned you are; I find it endearing.  Is it not wonderful to have such a family, Ada?_
> 
> _I am very proud of how hard you have worked to let go of your grief and to be the kind of father you always wanted to be._
> 
> _I miss you very much; more so than anyone else, Ada. Sigrid wrote at how frustrating it was to finally get a sister, and then have to part; I feel the same way, but mostly about you._
> 
> _I anxiously await the day when you all return._
> 
> _Much love,_
> 
> _Your Tauriel_

 

* * *

 **To Rhys from Alun:**    

> _Dear Son,_
> 
> _I want to write and tell you I made it back to Dale in one piece, and how much I enjoyed our visit.  King Thranduil’s Palace surely is a wonder!  I think, for the rest of our days, we won’t forget our time in the Palace of the Elvenking.  What a story for my grandchildren!!_
> 
> _I enjoyed my visit, and seeing your schoolwork, and the places you visit there, I especially enjoyed watching your sword and archery practice.  You shouldn’t worry about being watched when you do those things, son.  Learning to overcome that, will help you concentrate better, and remember, a battle is noisy and full of distraction, so learn to deal with it now._
> 
> _We’ll see each other very soon.  The time will fly by, as long as we both keep busy._
> 
> _We’re going to have a good life, here.  I’ll see you in the spring!  Write me soon._
> 
> _Always,_
> 
> _Your loving Da_

 

* * *

 

 **To Rhian from Old Ben:**   

> _Hello, Young Lady,_
> 
> _King Bard tells me you made an appearance at Lady Sigrid’s party, and I’m proud of you, dearie.  You’re learning to be stronger, and I know that takes work, but you’re going to have a good, happy life, and be a wonderful mother to that son of yours._
> 
> _When King Bard makes his trip to the Palace in three weeks, I’ll be coming with him.  I look forward to seeing that boy of yours, so get ready for a visitor!_
> 
> _You just do everything Mistress Hannah wants, and look after young Darryn.  Tell that guard who saved you thanks for saving you and the baby.  I’ve always worried about you, and now that all the badness is out of your life, I look forward to seeing you be happy!_
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Old Ben_

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and Bard's new life and new family have been wonderful, despite their separation. Thranduil revels in the delights of hands-on parenting, and although Bard misses them, he knows they are in the best of hands.
> 
> Will it be enough, though?
> 
> Thranduil's fears about Tilda wasn't just nerves, after all...

 

**The Woodland Realm; 7 th of February, 2942, T.A.**

 

The Elvenking knew, of course, that children of Men were fragile and susceptible to sickness, but seeing it for himself frightened him.  As he walked through the Palace, he saw some children sneezing, and coughing, and that was bad enough, but when his own child became ill, he found it impossible to control his apprehension. 

On the 31st of January, Sigrid’s birthday, Tilda was a little tired and cranky, so he had Daeron and Hilda carefully looked her over, and tried not to be concerned. 

When she started to sniffle and cough a bit, a few days later, he became nervous, but Hilda did her best to reassure him.

“It happens, Thranduil.  Kids get the sniffles and colds, and she’s hardly doing that, so this is nothing to worry about.  She has no fever, and nothing hurts.”

He felt terrible. “We should not have taken them outside to play in the snow,” he said, for the sixth or seventh time. 

Hilda put her hand on his arm.  “No, Thranduil, stop that.  _All_ those children are healthier now, thanks to you, dear.  Your folk have made sure they’re eating good, healthy food, that will build them up.  They can fight off diseases so much better now. Do you remember when you first came to Dale, and went to the Children’s Tent?  Don’t you remember all those pale, thin faces and hollow cheeks?  Those parents did their level best by their kids, but they had barely enough.  Percy and I were happy to help Bard make sure his own were fed, but we struggled.  Too many others weren’t so fortunate; they often went hungry.

“And now, look at all of them!  They’ve filled out and they've got roses in their cheeks, even Tilda.  They have good vegetables, and fruit and meat, and you’ve given them all a place where they can run and play and get strong, now.  You and your Elves did all that!”

“But they are still getting sick!” Thranduil said, worried.

 “Aye, that’s true, and they _will_ get sick, Thranduil.   Children all over Middle Earth catch colds this time of year, and it’s usually gone in a week or so.”

“Are you sure?” Thranduil asked.

“Look, Tilda’s not feverish, so, we’ll watch her closely and make sure she gets enough rest.  Then see what happens, all right?  It’s all we can do.”

“I will have Daeron examine her daily.”

“If it would make you feel better, do just that.  In the meantime, make sure she gets good naps, and we’ll give her plenty of chicken soup, and tea with honey to help with her cough.  It will help her throw this off.” Hilda assured him.

Thranduil sighed, and gave her a sheepish smile.  “I am not used to this, My Lady.  I want to take excellent care of them."

“Of course, you do."  Hilda smiled, and patted his cheek.  “I tease you, yes, but I know it's hard.  You love them, Thranduil; anyone with eyes can see that.”

The Elvenking nodded.

“So, no worries?”

Thranduil couldn’t say that.  “What if she gets sicker?”

“If she does, or if any of the children do, they’ll get the best care they’ve ever had.   Tilda’s always been a bit delicate.  But we’ll do our best, and take things as they come.  Percy likes to say, ‘One foot in front of the other,’ and he’s right.  It’s all we can do.”

So, they kept a close eye on his _Tithen Pen._   It still seemed like a minor cold, according to Hilda, to Daeron, and even to Elénaril, when Thranduil insisted on taking her to the Healing Hall after the third day.  Tilda blew her nose, sneezed, and coughed, but she had no fever.  Esta, ever the good nurse, camped out on her bed, and kept a close eye on her. 

Still, the Elvenking worried.  When she began to cough, Thranduil told Galion to have her things moved from the next apartment, and into the room adjoining his bedchamber, where a large bed had been set up.  It had originally been Legolas’s nursery, and had been used as his art studio for many years but within an hour, it was all set up for his Tilda, complete with a double bed. He told himself it was only so her cough wouldn’t keep Sigrid awake, but really, he couldn’t fight the urge to have her close, so he could watch over her.  He kept her home from school the last couple of days, and did his work from his chambers. 

Whenever Daeron came to get the boys and Sigrid, he would examine her, but didn’t find anything besides a regular cold.

On the 4th of February she developed a slight fever, so Daeron prescribed Willow Bark tea, to help her fever, and the body aches she had developed.    Tilda hated it, but honey made it palatable.  He and Hilda tried to keep Thranduil calm, reassuring him that this often happens with a cold.

On the 5th of February, she developed an earache, so they treated it with Garlic Oil and Lavender Salt.  It seemed to help.

On the 6th of February, her cough was worse, but her mucus was clear, and so was the phlegm she coughed up, so they decided it was just part of her cold.

On the 7th of February, it wasn’t just a cold anymore.

 

 It was the middle of the night, and Thranduil had finally drifted off, after hours of listening and worrying.  He was deeply asleep from fatigue, when Esta leapt onto his bed and barked at him, frantically.  He blinked, and sat up, confused for a second or two, then looked at the doorway to Tilda’s room.  The dog grabbed the sleeve of his night shirt and pulled, wanting him to come, quickly.  He pain of her teeth sinking into his wrist through the fabric, brought him to alertness, instantly.  Thranduil lurched out of bed, and ran into the nursery to find the little girl sitting up, coughing so hard she vomited all over herself.

He ran over to her and felt her forehead and face, in a panic.  She was burning up; her cheeks were deeply flushed with fever and her eyes were glassy.  She coughed a few more times and started to cry.

Esta whined loudly with concern.

 _“Thozyan sen, Esta.  Samis mauré enwinyatiewa.”_ He told the dog in Quenyan. She went to the other side of the bed, put her front paws up, and watched Tilda closely.

Tilda, still crying, had another coughing fit.  “I made a mess, _Ada,_ and I got Daisy all dirty…” she cried in earnest, her voice was now a deep, terrible rasp.

“Oh, do not worry about that.  Come, child.  Let us get you cleaned up, and I will make sure Daisy and Charlotte are taken care of.”  He grabbed a handkerchief from the pile on her bedside and wiped her face and gave her a sip of water. 

“Can you tell me if you hurt anywhere?”

“It hurts _all over,”_ she wheezed, and rubbed her chest. “It feels bad really here... I want Da!” she wheezed and cried.  She began another coughing fit, so he held the kerchief against her mouth.  When he removed it, the handkerchief had rust-colored spots, with streaks of fresh blood.

 _Oh, no… Oh, Valar, no, please…_ Thranduil’s heart lurched in his chest, painfully.  This is what he had foreseen; this is what he had been afraid of.  _Please…no…_

He quickly helped her get her soiled nightgown off, got her into a new one, then wrapped her in a blanket and took her into the Hall. 

“Get Daeron up and tell him to meet us in the Healing Hall,” he said to the guards.  “Have someone change all the bedding in Lady Tilda’s room immediately, and make sure her stuffed toys are taken away and cleaned. Wake Lady Hilda and tell her to join us, as soon as she can.” 

"Yes, My Lord."  Ivran and Ruvyn saluted, and quickly got to work.

Thranduil carried the sick child through the Palace, whispering words of encouragement, as she cried and wheezed and lay her hot little head on his shoulder, too weak to even put her arms around his neck.

Once in the infirmary, he rushed past the nighttime attendants, and took her into a treatment room.  The little girl began to cough again, so he held the kerchief to her mouth, and grabbed a basin for her, in case she became sick again. 

Thranduil looked down at her dazed eyes and red cheeks, and stroked her hair, as his stomach churned with worry.  He knew so little about sick children, and this was his Tilda, his _Tithen Pen!_   He tried to lay hands on her, to look for what exactly was wrong, but she couldn’t stay still enough for him; it didn’t help that he was too frightened to really concentrate, but he had to try _something._  

Tilda was almost hysterical, and every time he loosened his grip on her, she thrashed around and started to cry again.  Daeron came rushing in, still pulling his tunic down.  _“Aran nî_ _n—  ai gorgor...”_

The Guard’s eyes widened, as he took in the sight before him, how sick the little girl was, and the terrified look on his King’s face. 

 _“De nathathodh?”_ Thranduil asked him, pleading, “ _Dhen iallon!”_  

Daeron swallowed, then did his best to compose himself, as he approached them.  “Hello, Lady Tilda,” he said in a soothing tone, as he felt the little girl’s face. “You look very unhappy.”

“I really really want my Da…” The little girl buried her face in Thranduil’s tunic and cried between deep coughs.  “Where’s Da?” Each breath was a struggle, and the coughs tore at Thranduil’s insides.

“She hurts everywhere, and you can hear how bad her lungs sound.”  Elvenking shook his head, as he stroked the back of her hair.  He handed Daeron the handkerchief to show him what she was coughing up.

Daeron looked at the rusty, bloody streaks and gasped in alarm.  He tried to examine her, but Tilda kicked her legs and tried to bat his hands away.  “I just want my Da!  Get my Da!” She croaked and coughed.  “My head hurts!” She didn’t seem to recognize her surroundings.

Then Hilda hurried in, wearing her thick robe with her braid falling down on one shoulder.

“Oh, no…  Oh, Beanie…”  She breathed, as she went over and felt the little one’s forehead.  “Auntie Hil is here, sweetie, and we’re going to get you better. All right?  Now you do everything Daeron tells you, so we can find out what’s wrong.”

The little girl squinted her eyes at Hilda, who gently stroked her forehead to calm her. “It all hurts and I threw up and I can’t breathe.” She whispered.

“Oh, lovey, I know; you just let your Ada hold you tight, and you look at me, so Daeron can check you, all right?  You just look at me, yeah?  Can you do that for Auntie Hil, sweetie?”

Tilda nodded and kept her eyes on Hilda, as she wheezed.

Thranduil held her against his chest, with his hand on her head, so Daeron could finish looking her over.  As the Elven Guard checked her out thoroughly, Tilda never let go of Hilda’s hand, and would only lift her head off her _Ada's_ chest, so he could check her ears.

“That is very good, Lady Tilda; now take your finger, and point to where it hurts.  Can you do that for me?”

The little girl just scrunched her eyes tight, and buried her face in Thranduil’s chest and wheezed and coughed.

Daeron quickly got up to dim the lanterns, “Does that help?  Does the light hurt your eyes, Tilda?”

She nodded and turned toward him, slightly. 

“I understand.  Let us see if we can make it not hurt anymore.  Can you be still for just a little while longer, for your Ada and me?  Keep looking at Lady Hilda.”

She nodded, and rested her cheek on the Elvenking, still coughing.

 _“Daeron gi nathad, Tithen Pen.”_ Thranduil whispered, stroking her hair.

Daeron placed his hands over the little girl’s ears, and began to sing, then he moved to her forehead, her throat and her lungs.  Her cough settled down, for the moment, and she relaxed.

“Is that better, love?” Hilda asked her, still stroking her brow.

“I don’t hurt so bad,” she said, in a thin voice. “But I really need my Da.  Can he come?  Please?” and she began to cry, again.  As she inhaled, there was still a terrible rattle in her chest, and Thranduil felt like his own heart would stop every time he heard it.

He looked over to Hilda, and they both nodded to each other, but didn’t say anything.

“Can you breathe easier?” Daeron asked.

“It doesn’t hurt as bad.” Her cheeks still looked flushed, and her eyes still had that faraway look.

Thranduil looked down at her.  “Can you sit with your Auntie Hil for a moment, _Tithen Pen?_   Daeron and I need to speak, just for a moment.  Can you do that?”

Tilda nodded and reached for Hilda, who sat down next to Thranduil to receive the child.  Then she cradled her and began to sing and rock her, in a soothing tone.  Thranduil and Daeron stepped out into the hall, to confer.

“What is the matter with her?”

“My Lord, she has Lung Fever - a very bad case of it.  Both of her ears, as well as her throat are infected, and there is a dangerous amount of congestion in her chest.  She said she had a headache, so I have treated the inflammation in her sinuses, so that should help.  She is more comfortable for now, but I have not been able to eliminate her fever, and we need to get the fluid out of her lungs as quickly as possible.”

 “How do we do this?” The Elvenking asked. 

“Steam.  We need loosen things up, so she can cough it out.”  Daeron told him.  “I wish we could put her under a _losta-luith,_ but she needs to be awake to cough up all the infected material. I warn you, My Lord: it will be very unpleasant for her, but it is the best way.”

“I hate to put her through something like that, but if you say it will help her...  Can you do this here?”

“We should set her up in your bathing room, and fill the bath with hot water.  There are several oils I can put in the water, and rub into her chest that will give her ease.  I need to prepare mint tea help her nausea, and add willow bark, to treat her pain and fever.”

Thranduil went back and repeated the diagnosis to Hilda in hushed tones.  “I must take her back, and wash her more thoroughly, so she can be comfortable. Would you please come with me, and help?  Once we get her dressed again, I need you to remain in my chambers in case the other children need anything.”

“Absolutely.”  The woman stroked Tilda’s hot forehead. “Let’s go get you washed up, Little Bean.”

As they made ready to leave, Daeron said, “I will be there as soon as her medicine is ready.  Please have the servants put the hottest water possible into your bathing pool, and tell them to continue to do so.  They need to set up a small table and chairs for us, so we can take turns with Tilda in our lap.”  Daeron looked into Thranduil’s eyes, with a determined look.  _“Athon de nathad, Aran nî_ _n.”_   

_“De vilui, Daeron.”_

“We have a very long night ahead of us, so please do not thank me just yet.”  Daeron admitted.  “I wish I could tell you something better, but I must be honest.”

“I understand.” Thranduil stroked Tilda’s hair. 

He felt terrible.  He should have seen this coming; he should have known!  But he _did_ know.  His foresight warned him, but what else could they have done to prevent this?  Thranduil had done _everything_ in his power to look after her...

The Guard must have read the look on his face, because he said, “My Lord, you could not have predicted this; no one could have.  Small children get sick very, very quickly.  You neglected nothing, you missed _nothing_. It was good that you moved her room nearer to you.”

“It was Esta who woke me.”

Daeron said, with all seriousness.  “That dog most likely saved her life.”

Thranduil looked at him for a long moment, and tried to stem the tide of panic that threatened to cripple him. 

“I can’t lose her, Daeron.  I…  can’t." 

Thranduil never used contractions in his speech.  He didn’t know why he had just now.  Perhaps it was because it was as unnatural and foreign to him as this moment was.  Nothing seemed real or right, and if she died, nothing could be good again.

Daeron looked at him with determination. “We will do our utmost, _Aran nî_ _n._   We must be brave, for her."

Thranduil stood up with the little girl in his arms, and he and Hilda walked back to Tilda’s room.  The servants had changed out all the bedding, and the toys had been taken away, so Thranduil sat with her on the chair, until Hilda came back with a basin of water and soap, and several towels.  Together, they got the little girl’s sweaty and soiled body washed thoroughly, as Tilda remained limp, too sick to care what was happening.  Hilda re-braided her hair up and out of the way, and they got her into fresh clothes.

Once cleaned, Thranduil laid her on the bed asked her, _“Tithen Pen,_ can you rest here, while we get the bathing chamber ready?”

“Why?” she said, weakly.

“We are going to help you breathe better, _Hênig._   I just need to step out and speak with your Auntie Hil, then I will be back in a moment.  Close your eyes, all right?”

Hilda propped her up with pillows.  “It will help you breathe, Beanie, if you sit up more.”  She kissed her head.  We’ll be right back.”

Tilda nodded, and closed her eyes, wheezing.

They stepped out to confer, and Thranduil told the older woman, “My Lady, it will be six hours until dawn.  If you wish, you may take my bed, until it is time to wake the children for school.”

“I’ll be fine on one of the couches, Thrandiul.  It’s closer to the children, so I can hear them.  What are you going to tell Bard?”

Thranduil quickly stepped over to his small desk and moved Legolas’s book out of the way.  He penned a short note, used the flame from the lamp to seal it and gave it to her.  Then he wrote another small note, with his signature.

“Send this with one of the Guards to the barracks.  They will take it to Bard at first light.  I am hoping by the morning, she will improve, but I think the child will do better with Bard here.  Do you agree?”

Hilda nodded.  “She needs him.”  Her voice shook.  “Thranduil, I’ve _never_ seen her so sick!”

This did not help Thranduil’s nerves at all, and he scrubbed a trembling hand over his face.  “There is no moon tonight.  I would send messengers, but the horses cannot see...  I… What if..he cannot get here in time?”

Hilda reached up and took the Elvenking’s face in her hands, and did her best to sound sure and confident.  “You listen to me, love,” she told him, looking him straight in the eyes.  “ _Nothing bad_ is going to happen, because we won’t let it!  I know you’re scared, and I am, too, but we must be brave.  That little girl needs us to be strong for her, so that’s exactly what we’ll do!  We’ll be _everything_ that child needs right now, and we can fall apart later; do you hear me?”

Thranduil nodded, unable to speak, as he looked at her, but her words helped.  He took a deep, marshalling breath and stood straighter with his shoulders back.

“Do you want to take turns in there?” She pointed to the door of the bathing room, where servants were setting up.  Just then, Daeron entered the apartment with a mug of tea and several small glass bottles.

“The child is resting in her room for the moment.”  He took the cup from Daeron. “Please go get the water ready, and I will have her drink this.” 

Before Thranduil did that, though, he brought Hilda out an extra blanket and pillow.  “Here, please rest.  You have just recovered from exhaustion, My Lady.  If you change your mind, please do not hesitate to take my bed.”

Hilda promised she would, and for now, at least, settled on the couch.  The Elvenking went back into the small girl’s room.

“I told you I would be right back, did I not?” Thranduil put on a cheery face for her.  “Now I have some Willow Bark tea, and this will help with pain and your fever.  Can you drink this for me?”

He helped her drink the mixture, and she made a sour face.  “I don’t like it.”

“I understand, but at least there is honey in it.  There is also mint; that will help your stomach feel a little better. Medicine rarely tastes good. But I am proud of you for drinking.”  He stood up, and scooped her off the bed. “Come with me, my _Tithen Melin._  We are going to help you breathe better.”

She nodded against his shoulder, and closed her eyes.

 

 

 

**8 th of February, 2942, T.A.; early hours of the morning**

 

Thranduil carried Tilda into the bathing room, and the pungent odor from Daeron’s oils filled the air.  

Galion was there, arranging a chaise lounge, a chair, and setting a pitcher of water and some cups on the table, next to some towels. The Chief Aide must have hurried here, because he still was dressed in his night clothes and robe.  _Thank the Valar…_  

At the sight of him, Thranduil sighed with relief, and he felt some of the tension loosen in his chest. He could endure this, if he knew Galion was near.

“I am so glad to see you.” He said to his Aide in a broken voice, as he nestled Tilda close.  “I am sorry I did not wake you myself, but things happened so fast…”  

“Daeron sent for me, and, of course, I came, Thranduil.” The Aide smiled fondly at the little girl.  “Anything that is in my power to help...” His put a hand on Thranduil’s shoulder.  “You will not face this alone, _Ion-nauth nîn_ _._ ”

Then Galion added, “Feren is visiting the Palace this week, and I sent word to him as well.  He is available if you need him, and he and his family are praying earnestly for her.  I am here, for as long as I am needed.”

“I did not even notice who came with the wagons, but I am glad he is here.”  Thranduil said, in a far-off voice.  He knew nothing right now, except what was happening in this room. 

Galion squeezed his shoulders, and spoke in soothing tones.  “I will remain, and look after all of you.”  He steered Thranduil over to the chaise.  “This is more comfortable than a chair, and you can keep her sitting up, which is what Daeron said would help.  Now, and let me help you get arranged.”  Between the two of them, they settle her into his lap.  “I will get you and Daeron some tea, and bring some fresh water and cups.”

Galion bent down to kiss the little girl’s hair, and then smoothed the hair away from her brow. _“Fer-nesto im, hênig.”_ He whispered, and left the room.

 Daeron entered, and shut the door behind him, and sat down in the chair beside them.  He uncorked a small bottle, and rubbed it on her chest, and under her nose.  Thranduil felt Tilda stir, and he looked down at her, as she was wrinkling her nose. 

“It smells funny.” She wheezed.  There was a slight bluish tint to her lips.

Daeron smiled down at her, as she settled into Thranduil’s lap and lay her head against his chest.  “What you smell is eucalyptus, My Lady.  I have also added Athelas and some other herbs to the water and they will help you to breathe, as well.”

“Will I stop coughing?”

“I am afraid not.  In fact, Tilda, we need you to do something very important.”

Tilda weakly lifted her head.  “What?”

“You _need_ to cough, _hênig,_ because you have material inside you that is making you very sick.  And when you cough, and stuff comes out, you _must not_ swallow it - you must spit it out, either into a towel, or in that basin.  The fumes from the smelly oil, is medicine, so you must take deep breaths, and the steam will push all that good medicine inside you.  We cannot get you better, until your lungs are clear, do you understand?”

The little girl frowned, “Will it hurt?”

Daeron hesitated.  It would likely hurt a great deal.  “If it does, you must tell us right away.” 

Thranduil kissed the top of her head.  “I will help you, _Tithen Pen._ Will you do as Daeron asks, and take nice deep breaths?”

“I’ll try.” She said.  "I'm scared, _Ada."_

Daeron stroked the little girl’s cheek, and gave her a confident smile.  “We will be with you the entire time, and we will help." 

“Can't Da come?”  Tilda asked in a small, thin voice, and began to cry again.  “I really, really need my Da…”

Thranduil wrapped his arms tighter around her.  “We are sending for him the moment it becomes light again.  It will take a while, but he will get here as soon as he can.  Does that make you feel better?”

She shook her head, “No! I need my Da now!”  She cried harder, and began to cough, which sounded more like barking. 

Thranduil smoothed down her hair.  “I know, my little love.  But we must do the best we can, and you must help us clear your lungs. He will come tomorrow, and you want to be better when you see him, do you not?”

He felt her head nod up and down.

The Guard took one of her hands. “Now, Tilda, take some deep breaths.  Here; I will do it with you.” Daeron encouraged her. “Push that medicine inside…”

They did it together, and Tilda barked at them for quite a while, but then they changed to horrid, wet sounds.  Having her spit into the basin didn’t seem to work so well, so Thranduil was at the ready to wipe out her mouth. At one point, she vomited again, but they managed to keep her clean.  Galion stepped in quickly and put down a clean basin and and a soapy towel.

Her coughs still produced the terrible rusty color, and she kept trying to catch her breath, between cries of misery.  In spite of their efforts to ease her pain, she became combative.

“No!  You’re hurting me!” she kept saying, and hit him and kicked her legs, as they struggled to keep her in his lap.  “I don’t like it! I want Da! It hurts!"  She cried gasped and coughed and thrashed around.  "Stop!  You're hurting me!"

In a gruesome way, her activity helped, despite the agony Thranduil felt watching it.

“Can we not ease her?” He asked, with tears filled his eyes.  “She is in torment!”

“We cannot, My Lord.  I know this is cruel, and I am sorry for it, but her her vigorous movements help and her gasps  are pushing the medicine into her, and will help her cough it up.  We can ease her a little, but it is better if she keeps moving.”

Thranduil looked at the Guard, furious, ready to shout at him; to strike him, even, but he saw the stricken look on the Guard’s face, and know it it mirrored his own.

“I am sorry, My Lord; if there were any other way…”

The Elvenking nodded, as they continued to hold her as she writhed and coughed, and cried.  When he wiped her mouth again, he said.  “I would rather face ten thousand Orcs, than see her suffer like this.”

Throughout the night, the two Elves worked together, as Tilda’s lungs took in the humid, medicated air and cleared out some.  At this point, she was beyond exhausted, and only woke up to cough.  They had her sip lots of water, and Daeron left twice more to make the tea to help her fever.  Galion would step in frequently, to change out the small cloths and lay clean ones down, and to make sure they all had fresh, cool water.  He brought cups of tea for both Thranduil and Daeron, and anything else they might need.

Daeron soaked some small cloths in the cold water and placed one on her head and in her armpits, in another attempt to bring down her fever.  They had tried this earlier, but her constant movements made it unsuccessful.

Thranduil never let go of Tilda once, and held her however she wanted, even holding her in the necessary, where, with Hilda’s help, things were taken care of, so she could go back to the steam.  Thranduil felt drained, and shed a few tears, as she coughed, because her chest and throat were terribly sore, and it was becoming more and more difficult to ease her pain. 

Dawn came and went, and still Tilda wheezed and coughed, although her breathing was a little better.  She had expelled an astonishing amount from her lungs, but she was not out of danger.  Her fever still raged; in fact, it climbed even higher!  Her eyes lost their focus, and she wasn’t aware of her surroundings, anymore. 

At this point, Thranduil and Daeron switched places, and the Guard held the girl closely, while Thranduil centered himself to lay hands on her. 

Thranduil closed his eyes and connected with her little body.  Daeron was right; there was a limit to what he could do for illnesses, even as powerful as he was.  Injuries, even severe ones, could be fixed, but this…   He could help the effects of the sickness, but the cause...  how to fight an unseen enemy such as this?

 _No.  No,_ he told himself.  _Calm, centered, peaceful…_

He tried again, chanting the words in Quenya, trying desperately to find _something_ in her that he could fix, and make all this go away.  Her throat was calling out to him, so he took care of the redness and inflammation.  He moved his hands to her chest, and saw her lungs.  He reduced the swelling in the tissue and saw the muscles were also angry, so he soothed them, with much better success.  He could see the fluid and phlegm in the lungs, heard that terrible whistling sound, and tried to make that disappear.  Could he loosen things, to help her?  He tried, but had very limited success.

And she was still so hot!

 _Oh Stars_ … _his little girl could die, and he didn’t know if he could save her!_

As soon as he opened his eyes, Tilda began another coughing fit, which took care of some more congestion.  As he wiped her mouth and washed her face, Daeron met his gaze, with worried eyes. 

“I am sorry, My Lord.  As you can see, this is not something spells can fix entirely.”  The Guard moved his legs, and shifted the little girl in his lap, so the Elvenking could sit down on the end of the chaise lounge.

“Daeron, you must be completely truthful.  Will she get better?”

“The next several hours will tell us.”  The Guard’s eyes filled with tears.  “I wish I could give you a better answer…”

Thranduil got up, his face was a calm mask. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course, My Lord.”  Daeron made the sleeping little girl comfortable.  “I will call for you if I need you.”

The Elvenking left the bathing chamber, and heard the voices of the older children getting ready to leave for school.  Hilda was talking to them in soothing, but cheerful tones, not letting on how seriousness of the situation.  She and Galion were right to send them.  They needed to be kept occupied; sitting around would only upset them more, especially when there was nothing they could do.  If they were needed, Hilda would send for them immediately. 

It was selfish, he knew, but Thranduil couldn’t cope with them, just then, so he hung back in the hallway.  His strength and focus was hanging by a thread, and if he lost it, it could mean Tilda’s life.

He used the necessary, then waited until the children left, before he wearily stepped into the front Of the apartment.

Hilda and Galion looked at him in alarm.  “What is it?  Is she…”  Hilda put on hand on her chest.

“She still breathes the fumes and the steam.  She has coughed up much of the congestion, and her lungs are clearer, but,” Thranduil's voice became hoarse. “Her fever burns, and we try to stop it, but...” his composure crumbled, and he covered his face. “Forgive me; I...I do not know what to do, anymore.”

Hilda took the tired, frightened Elvenking in her arms and they held each other for several minutes.  There was nothing they could say.  Galion put his hand on Thranduil’s arm, and gave him an encouraging squeeze.

“My Lord!” they heard Daeron shout, with urgency. 

They all went running into the bathing chamber.

“What’s happened?” Hilda shrieked.

“She has lost consciousness.  I cannot wake her up!”

Hilda lurched forward to kneel beside the child. “No, please… " she wept and begged.

Galion touched Thranduil’s sleeve.  “Should I get the children?”

 

***************

 

**City of Dale; 8 th of February, 2942, T.A.; Mid-day**

 

Percy was finishing up his shift in the kitchens after lunch.  He was hanging up the towels and getting ready to empty the soapy water, when he saw one of the big doors slam open, and an Elven messenger rushed in, followed by three soldiers.

Percy’s stomach sank. The supply wagons weren’t due for another four or five days.  There was news, and from the look on the Elves' faces, it wasn’t good.  He lowered the partition to the pass-through window, exited through the door into the Hall, and quickly went over to the messenger.

“What’s going on?” he asked him.

“I have an urgent message for King Bard, Lord Percy.  Do you know his whereabouts?”

“Good thing you came when you did; he’s just getting ready to leave for the construction sites.  Come on.” Percy knew better than to offer to deliver it for him.  Thranduil always required his couriers to place the message directly in the recipient’s hands, or take it back.

On their way out of the Hall, Percy gave orders to one of the men to get Tauriel, and _hurry_.

They made their way to the back of the Hall and towards the corridor housing Bard and the City of Dale’s administrative staff.  At the end of the hallway, Bard was just shutting the door to his room, with Thangon beside him, when he turned and saw the  Elves and Percy.  Thangon began to whine.

Bard looked down at his dog, and met their gaze.  “What is it?”  He asked solemnly.

The Messenger saluted.  _“Dhe suilon, Aran Bard,”_ and handed him the message.

“Thank you.  Stable your horses, and tell the cook to get you all a hot meal,” he said, as he read Thranduil’s handwriting, and turned the envelope over.

The Elves saluted again and left, as Bard broke the seal and read the message. 

“Oh... oh, gods, no...” the Bowman whispered, in a tone of voice Percy hadn't heard since the night Mattie had died.  The color left Bard’s lips, and his face turned to ash.

He stepped forward, his stomach in sudden knots.  “What is it, son?  Tell me.”

Bard looked like he was going to pass out, so Percy grabbed his arm, looked over his shoulder, and read what Thranduil had written, with his heart in his throat: 

 

> _Bard,_
> 
> _Tilda is terribly ill with Lung Fever. We are doing all we can, but she needs you.  We all need you.  I’m so very sorry, Meleth nîn.  You must come, right away._
> 
> _Thranduil_

 Percy gasped, “No..."

Bard looked into his eyes, pleading for this not to be true. 

Percy got himself together quickly, and put his arm around Bard’s shoulders.  “We’ll get you there, do you hear?  You go right back in that room and pack what you need to take with you, and I’ll get your horse saddled and get you something to eat on the way.”

“I may already be too late.” Bard whispered.

“Don’t talk like that!” Percy said firmly.  “Don’t you dare! Tilda's in the best place she could possibly be, yeah?  So, none of this talk, you hear?  Now, go get your things together.” He opened the door to Bard’s room and shoved him inside. “Go!”

Percy ran back into the kitchen, and tried to put a bundle together, but he couldn’t see through his tears, and began to fumble and gasp for breath. 

Tilda was their baby!  Gods, what Hilda must be going through… and the kids… 

A hand was on his arm.  Alun had followed him into the kitchen and found him in despair, so he stepped up, and gently took the plate from Percy.  “Here; let me.  We’ll get Bard to the Palace, all right?”

Percy did his best to calm down, and cleared his throat.  “It’s just that…”

“I know.”  Alun smiled.  “It’s not always easy to be the strong one, but we’ll think good thoughts, and keep believing.  Anything else, we’ll take it as it comes.” 

“Aye,” Percy whispered in shaky voice.  “One foot in front of the other.”

 

***************

 

Bard stuffed only a few items in his bag.  He had everything he needed as far as clothing or grooming items in his rooms at the Palace.   His heart would not stop pounding; his stomach was beginning to churn and his chest hurt.  He did his best to concentrate on the task at hand, then threw the bag over his shoulder and opened his bedroom door.

"Bard!" Tauriel was in the corridor, and ran up to hug him, tight.  “I was in the Marketplace when I heard.  I am so sorry, Bard.”

Bard hugged her back, and said in a shaky voice, “I’ll send word as soon as I can.”

"I know.  Now, let’s get you dressed.  Your horse and your escort will be ready in a few minutes.”

The Elf wiped her eyes, and helped Bard into his riding coat and cloak, hat and leather riding gloves.  She took his arm and led him through the Great Hall, and everyone he passed wished him a safe journey.  A big crowd followed him into the courtyard, where Fînlossen stood, saddled and bundled, and ready to go, along with his Elven escort. The white stallion threw his head and neighed loudly, as eager as Bard was to get going.

“Look after Thangon, and everyone here.” Bard told Tauriel. “Between Percy, you and Alun, you should handle things, but send a message to King Dáin right away.  For now, I’m officially putting him in charge of Dale, should anything huge happen.”  His voice wavered.  “I don’t know how long I’ll be…”

She gave him a brave, teary smile.  “King Dáin will be told, and I am sure he will add his own prayers to Mahal. He will oversee things.  You must hurry, now.”

Tauriel was doing her best not to cry, and she bravely saluted.  All Percy could manage was a nod of his head.

Bard, at this point, couldn’t talk, either.

He got on his horse, and galloped off with the four Elven Guards with his eyes burning, and it wasn't from the wind.

 

“Are you warm, Lord Bard?  Do you need more covering?” an Elf asked, as they rode.  They were about two hours into the trip.

Bard never thought about it; his mind was still reeling over the morning’s events.  He really _wasn’t_ cold.  At all!  By all rights he should be; it was bitter out and the horses were bundled up, with their cannons and fetlocks wrapped warmly, and large, woolen blankets around their chests and over their withers. 

Bard felt no chill in his hands or feet, like he normally would, during the winter.  This must be another side effect of his marriage. 

He couldn’t care less.  Nothing meant anything, if he lost Tilda.  Nothing mattered, except getting to his baby. 

Some men, he supposed, would feel resentful of a child whose birth caused their mother’s death.  He’d seen that happen sometimes.  Thranduil felt that pain when he was with Legolas, and distanced himself, though he despised himself and tried not to.

But not once, not even for a second, did Bard think that way about his Little Bean.  The moment she was put into his arms, when she looked up at him with her huge eyes, and sucking on her fingers, he fell hopelessly in love, just as he had with Sigrid and Bain. 

Maybe it was the force of Hilda’s personality that kept Bard from seeing Tilda as the cause of his loss.  She would never have allowed him to do something he would regret.  Regardless, he always thought of Mattie’s death as something her own body had caused, and nothing that could be prevented.

_Hurry… Hurry…_

Tilda was a ray of bright sunshine in all their lives.  She loved to smile and laugh and be tickled.  Though Bard never quite felt the contentment he’d known with Mattie, Tilda helped coax Bard into living again. 

It was Bain who first gave Tilda her nickname.  He had seen her all swaddled in a light brown blanket, and said she looked like one of the beans Auntie Hil puts into soup.  And the name stuck.  From then on, she was their Little Bean, and she brought joy to a grieving household.  

Many nights, when Bard couldn’t sleep, he would go pick her up and just hold her, finding serenity in the little face.  Sometimes, she would open her eyes for a moment and give him a wide, toothless smile, before drifting off again.  He watched her sleep, loving how her long dark lashes fanned out against her cheeks, so like her mother.  Tilda helped him learn to feel again, with her innocent smile, trusting blue eyes, and dark baby curls.  She was such a beautiful child, inside as well as out.  And he _needed_ her.  They all did.

_Hurry… Hurry…_

So many moments with Tilda began to rush to the forefront of his thoughts, as Fînlossen took him to her, as fast as he could:  

_There was Tilda, at ten months, her fists waving in the air to help her balance, as she took three steps into her father’s arms._

_She loved the sea gulls, when she was a baby.  For some reason, she thought they were hilarious.  Her first word was “Gaw! Gaw!” when she pointed to them, and she turned to Bard, grinning and laughing at her brilliance, displaying her new teeth.  And Bard laughed with her - the very first time he had done so, since his Mattie had died._

_She was so small; Hilda loved to say she was “no bigger than half a minute.”  Tilda would always be tiny, like Bard's mother had been, and her petite size only made those around her more protective._

_How many times had she crawled into his bed at night, with Charlotte, only to kick him in her sleep, all night long?_

_She loved the color pink, hated light blue with a passion, but liked dark blue._

_She adored strawberries, but never wanted to eat them; Sigrid was allergic, and Tilda didn’t want to make her big sister feel bad._

_In the summer, he would sometimes take her on his trips up the River.  At night, she’d snuggle beside him, as he taught her the constellations, just as his own father had done with him.  He’d look over at her and smile, as he saw the stars reflected in her small, blue eyes._

_Even after all these weeks alone in Dale, he still sat up in the middle of the night, ready to go pull up her covers, then slowly lie back down, hating that she wasn’t there._

_She loved Charlotte and went into fits, if the doll was misplaced.  She’d wail at the top of her lungs, running in place, while everyone dashed around to locate her.  As soon as the doll was in her arms, she’d quiet down instantly._

_She liked to point at a Crescent Moon, and say, “Look Da!  Ulmo's thumbnail!”_

_When it rained, she decided the Valar were watering their flowers.  When there was thunder, the Valar were rolling wine barrels (that one Bard taught her, and it made her laugh). When it snowed, the Valar were having a huge pillow fight in the clouds..._

 

There were a thousand little things that added up to a life with his little girl, and he couldn’t accept it might be over.

 _No!_ Bard became angry.  He did NOT want to "remember her life," dammit!  He wanted her to keep _living_ _it_!

She can’t leave him.  She just can’t; he wasn’t ready to let her go.

_Hurry…  Hurry…_

The trip continued, at a brisk pace, but still, minutes had turned into hours. 

He had to get there in time… 

In time for what? 

No. _No!_

Don't think that way!

_Hurry… hurry…_

 

At long last, the Main Gate to the Woodland Realm was in sight, and Fînlossen, bless him, ran to it with everything he had.  The horns sounded as Bard raced across the wide bridge - they had been expecting him.  The horse raced on, barely waiting for the big doors to open, and only stopped when he brought Bard through.

He leapt off the big stallion, without waiting for someone to take his reins. 

There was Feren, running to greet him.  He grabbed Bard’s arm, and pointed him in the right direction, saying quickly: “All I know, is that she is in King Thranduil’s chambers.  The guards will clear the paths for you; I will take care of your horse and bring your things.  Go, _mellon nîn,_ with all my hopes. Go!”

The blood pounded in Bard’s ears, as he raced through the halls and walkways. He didn’t hear the Guards call for the others to get out of his way.  With his heart in his throat, he finally, _finally_ made it to the Royal Wing, and sprinted down the wide endless hallway, and skidded to a stop in front of the last doors to the right, and the guards quickly opened them for him, with concerned faces. 

There, on the couches, he found Hilda and Sigrid embracing, both sobbing uncontrollably, and Bain was crying, too, along with Galion, who had his arm around the boy.  Rhys was sitting next to Bain, his hand on his friend’s arm.

 _Oh_ , _no_... _no_...

Bard rushed past them toward Thranduil’s bedchamber.  It wasn’t until he reached the doorway, that Hilda even noticed he was there.

“Bard - “  He heard Hilda’s weepy voice behind him…

But he paid no attention; he was frantic with fear.

He knew he might be too late, but he _had_ to see… 

He went into their bedchamber, shaking.

No one was there, and the big bed was empty.

Bard looked around, helplessly.

A door was opened, off that room to the right.  Tilda had been moved into Legolas's old nursery.  A lamp was burning in there, but it was _so quiet._

_Oh, gods…_

He went in, and saw his baby girl, lying her back, so still, with her eyes closed.  His husband was sitting beside the bed, holding her tiny, limp hand in his, and covering his eyes with the other.

_No no no no no no..._

Wordless, inhuman cries erupted from Bard, as he collapsed to his knees. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, and shriveled into himself, as the terrible sounds came out.

He didn’t see Thranduil turning his head and look at Bard with a startled expression. 

Bard couldn’t see anything; his eyes were shut tight, so he couldn't see that his baby was gone.

Suddenly, strong hands grabbed him, and pulled him up to a sitting position.  It was Daeron.  He was talking; saying words, but Bard couldn’t understand them.

Bard tried to form words, but his mouth opened into a silent scream;  he couldn’t even breathe.  He dug his fingers into his chest, as Daeron held him up.  The room tilted almost sideways, and he couldn’t hear anything above the roar in his ears, so he covered them with his hands.  He couldn’t let himself hear the words that he knew was coming.

_No no no no no..._

It was just like the night Mattie had died.  It was just like that, and he’d have to try and survive it all, again.

“My Lord!”  He finally heard the loud voice in his ear, and his vision cleared.  He saw Thranduil still sitting by Tilda with his mouth open, too shocked to move. 

His husband looked _terrible._   He was almost unrecognizable from anguish.

And Tilda was so tiny, so still, in that big bed… 

_Oh, Valar… I can’t do this again.  I can’t.  Please…_

Daeron put his arm around Bard to steady him, and was speaking to him, again.  He looked blankly at the Guard, because his mind couldn't register.  He could only say one thing, and that word came out in an agonized moan.

_“No... No... No...”_

If he refused hear the words, he could be spared the agony that was to come. 

Suddenly, Thranduil was there kneeling beside him, gathering Bard into his long, strong arms.

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Thozyan sen, Esta._ – (Quenya) I am worried about her, Esta.

 _De nathathodh?_ _Dhen iallon!_   – Will you help her?  I beg of you!

 _Daeron gi nathad, Tithen Pen_ – Daeron will help you, Little One.

 _Athon de nathad, Aran ni_ _̂_ _n_ – We will help her, My King  

_De vilui, Daeron – Thank you, Daeron_

_Tithen Pen_ – Little One

_Tithen Melin - Little Love_

_Hênig_ – My child

 _Ion-nauth ni_ _̂_ _n_ – Son of my heart

 _Fer-nesto im, hênig_ – Feel better soon, my child

 _Dhe suilon, Aran Bard_ – I greet you, King Bard. (formal)

 

NOTES:

 _Lung Fever_ – older term for pneumonia

\- I am not a medical person, and Tilda’s illness is mostly contrived from my own sadistic imagination, but it resembles diseases we have.  Pneumonia is often accompanied by the horrid color coming from Tilda’s lungs, and often leaves a lovely parting gift of chronic asthma (Ask me how I know this.  *eyeroll*). 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd appreciate a small favor; I've been told that email notifications aren't going out when I post a chapter; if you do or don't get one, could you drop me a line and let me know? You guys are the greatest!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard finally arrived at Thranduil's Palace, and reached Tilda's room, but what will he find?
> 
> What happened, after Tilda lost consciousness?
> 
> In order to find out, we must backtrack to that terrifying morning, and see what they all went through.  
> Daeron is forced to call upon every ounce of skill and strength he has, and he needs his King to stop acting like a heart-broken father, and be a sharp, focused Warrior-King, or the Princess has no chance.
> 
> Even so, it may not be enough.

 

 

 

**The Woodland Realm; 8 th of February, 2942, T.A.; Just after Dawn**

 

While the others were gone, Daeron continued his ministrations to Lady Tilda.  The Guard was growing increasingly desperate; she was so very hot, and nothing they had done so far was helping.

She was panting through her mouth.  Her breaths were less wheezy, but her eyes were half-open, and unseeing, and he could tell she was in pain.

Then, her eyes closed, her head went back, she went utterly limp in his arms.

“Tilda?  _Tilda?_ Can you hear me?” He shook her shoulders gently.  He listened to her heartbeat; it was beating much too rapidly.

_Varda, please help…_

He shouted frantically for the King, and he and the others rushed into the steamy chamber, with hearts in their throats.

Daeron had his hand on her chest, feeling her heart, and encouraging her lungs to take deep breaths.  “I cannot get her to respond, My Lord, and her fever has spiked.”

Hilda put her hands over her mouth.  “No…  No!” and turned to Galion, who grabbed her with a worried look.

“What do we need to do?”  Thranduil asked.

“Empty the bathing pool and fill it with cooler water - just below room temperature, _not_ icy cold,” Daeron commanded. “Hurry!”

Thranduil rushed over to flip the stopper in the bottom of the water, and wait for the water to drain.

“Would not cold water be better?” Thranduil called over to him. 

“To immerse her now in cold water would be too much of a shock to her system; it could stop her heart. We cannot risk it.” He looked at Hilda.  “But for now, soak some towels with the cold water and bring them to me.”

She grabbed a couple of towels and took them to Thranduil, who ran them under the spigot.  Then she squeezed them out a little, and brought them back.  He quickly wrapped one around Tilda, and one around her head, grimacing, as the girl shivered. 

“What will happen if we can’t get the fever down?” Thranduil had turned on the spigots to the correct temperature, and walked over to them.

As if in answer, Tilda stiffened, her eyes opened again, but they rolled up into the back of her head, and she began to convulse.

 _“ **Ai, gorgor!** " _Daeron quickly rolled her over on her side.  “If she vomits, she could choke on it!  Hold her steady!”

“What’s happening?” Hilda demanded.

“Her fever has caused her body to seize.  We must try to keep her from injuring herself, and keep her on her side.  We _must_ get her fever down very soon, or…”  He couldn’t finish the sentence, as he saw Hilda’s face crumble.

Tilda’s body continued to jerk and spasm and it was evident she had lost control of her bowels and her bladder, and had soiled herself.  It was a dreadful and surreal scene.  

Hilda began to shriek, and her knees buckled, as Galion grasped her elbows to keep her from falling.

The Guard looked to Galion.  “Get Lady Hilda out of here, then send for Elénaril! Do NOT get the children!  They _must_ not see her like this!”

Galion nodded grimly, and dragged Hilda away, over her loud protests, and shut the door behind them.

Daeron looked over at the King, who was staring at his daughter with wide, disbelieving eyes, and shaking his head. He had gone completely white, and paralyzed with fear.

“My Lord?  My Lord…  You must focus!”  He grabbed the King’s shoulder, and shook him, hard.  “LOOK AT ME!” 

Daeron was a Healer, and a soldier, and would do anything he could to save his patient.  Right now, he needed Thranduil's help, or she'd die.  

The Guard cursed in Sindarin, as he tried to keep hold of Tilda, and he shook his King again.  “ _Avo dheo andin, Aran NÎn_ _; daro a maethor! Natho den!"_  

_Oh, Valar…_

Daeron sent up a quick prayer and in desperation, backhanded his beloved King across the right side of his face. “ _THRANDUIL!  SHE IS DYING! **HELP ME!”**_

***************

 

The Guard’s harsh words, and the sting on his cheek, brought Thranduil out of his trance. Daeron was right. 

This _was_ a battle; one he couldn’t lose, and to act as a father, was to guarantee her death.  He needed to think like a soldier, like a King, and do what needed to be done.

“I am sorry."  he swallowed and looked to Daeron for guidance. 

Daeron spoke sharply and looked him straight in the eye.  "I need you to be strong, My Lord.  If you cannot, I **_will_** have you removed from this room, is that clear?"

The Guard was absolutely right, and Thranduil felt ashamed.  But now was not the time for this, he sat up straighter, and met Daeron's eyes.  "What do we do?”

“We hold her steady till she stops.  Then we will get her into the water and try to bring her fever down.  I’ve got the child; go get some warm water in that basin and get the soap.”

Thranduil did as he was told, as, Tilda’s body calmed down.

Daeron checked her breathing and her heart, then nodded.  “Is the pool ready?”

“Yes.” 

“Good.  Her clothes are ruined; we need to get them off and clean her, or the water will become contaminated.”  They quickly stripped the girl down, and Daeron rolled her filthy clothes in a ball and tossed them in a corner, before he and Thranduil washed her off.  Then Daeron wrapped her in the towel again as the Elvenking removed his robe and pajama top, and stepped down into the water and held out his arms, as Daeron handed her down to him.

Just then the bathing room door slammed open, and in ran Elénaril.  Without a second thought, she kicked off her shoes, and stepped into the pool, fully clothed, and went to Tilda, stroking her hair, and looking intently at her face.

Without taking her eyes off the little girl, she asked Daeron.  “Tell me.  Quickly.”

In rapid Sindarin, Daeron explained everything that had happened so far, as he stripped down to his leggings and walked into the pool after her.  Thranduil sat on the step, and cradled Tilda in the water, immersing her up to her neck.

They were running out of time; her heartbeat was still rapid and thready, and she was cooking from the inside out.

By silent agreement, Thranduil held her still, and steadied her heart, while Daeron and Elénaril put their hands on Tilda, and began to chant and sing in Quenya.  Together, painstakingly searched Tilda everywhere.

Her lungs were no longer dangerously congested.  The oils from the steam bath had worked, and they were able to release most of the rest of it and bring it out of her.  Daeron had towels by the side of the pool handy, so he kept wiping her mouth out until it was clear.  They saw the inflammation and redness in her throat, and neck had returned, so they relieved that.  Only one of her inner ears still looked infected, so they worked together to eliminate it.

Why then, was she still suffering such a terrible fever? 

Daeron paused.  “It wasn’t just her throat that was causing her pain.  It was her neck…”

Elénaril thought for a few seconds, then asked Thranduil, “When you say her head hurt, was it just her face and forehead? And light bothered her?”

“It did.  She said her head hurt all over.” Thranduil said.  “Why?”

“We need to check something.”

Their focus now turned upward, toward her head.  As soon as Daeron’s hands rested on her skull, all three Elves suddenly saw the infection in the membrane surrounding her brain. 

She was in more peril than any of them had imagined.

Elénaril gasped, and opened her eyes.

Daeron also opened his eyes and looked into Thranduil’s.  “She has Brain Fever, My Lord.  I have never seen this, but I have read about it…”  The Guard was frightened.  “It is not a common disease, but can result from an illness such as Tilda’s.  Elénaril, do you know anything about this?”

“Very little, unfortunately.”

Thranduil closed his eyes and tried to collect himself.  “What can we do?”

Elénaril assessed the situation quickly.  “I do not think our lack of knowledge is that much of a problem; this is an infection, and we already know how to fight that. We are dealing with a very powerful infection, but we can fight it together.  There are three of us, here, and you are one of them, My Lord.  That gives us some hope.  We must act quickly, but we also must be _extremely_ careful, or we could do further damage.” 

Daeron closed his eyes and sighed, wearily.  He was tired, yes, but he was determined to keep on, until this was finished. 

Elénaril took note of it, then quickly took charge.  “I am the strongest right now, but Daeron is most familiar with the child’s anatomy, so this is what we are going to do:  He will take the lead in this, and I will assist him.”

“You,” she told Thranduil, “will hold her **_absolutely still_** _,_ and you will lend all your strength to Tilda, not to us.  You will give attention to her vital organs, to keep her stable and the blood pumping properly.  Look for infection in the blood, My Lord, and kill it _quickly._   Support _every_ part of the child that needs help, while we heal her head.  Can you do all this, My Lord?”

“I will,” Thranduil vowed. “I will not fail her.”

“Let us now begin.”

Holding the naked child in the cool water, King Thranduil centered himself, and concentrated, as he began to sing. 

Daeron placed his hands on her head and also began to sing, but a different song.

Then Elénaril placed his hands over the Guard’s, and joined his song, adding power to his efforts, letting him guide where the healing light needed to go.

The music echoed throughout the chamber, and their voices rose and fell and harmonized, as together, they waged war on the infection, determined to wrest the little girl from its fatal grip.  The battle went on for a long time, its outcome was still unpredictable. 

During these hours, no one noticed Galion quietly enter, to refill the lamps, and to take away the dirty towels and Tilda’s soiled pajamas, and bring clean robes and clothing for everyone. No one heard Galion’s own song, but they felt it; he was praying and singing for _them,_ to keep up their own strength, and helping to lift up any flagging spirits, and fill them with hope and vigor.

They also didn’t notice the times Galion placed steaming bowls of water on the table with several crushed _Athelas_ leaves in it, to renew and refresh them, as well as assist in their efforts.  But they all felt it, just the same, and they were thankful.

During all this, Thranduil held his child close. He cleared her blood of toxins and cooled it, to take care of her fever.  Anywhere her body faltered, he strengthened.  Any tissue that was damaged, he restored.  It took enormous strength to care for so many areas at once, and to give each part exactly what it needed.  It was an arduous, exhausting balancing act.

At one point, Tilda's heart faltered, so he quickly sang a strong, healing light into it, until it settled it back down. He regulated her breathing, helping her to take deep, steady breaths.  Eventually, all could see the infection recede, and concede defeat, and although none let up their efforts, they rejoiced. 

They continued their healing songs long after the fire in her head was gone, and her temperature return to normal.  The searched again and again for anything that seemed amiss, but found nothing. 

And yet, no one wanted to stop, because then the hard questions would be asked, and no one was ready to face the answers, especially Thranduil.  Was Tilda the same, or was part of her lost forever?  Were they too late, and was she now little more than a vegetable?

They couldn’t put it off any longer, so the singing stopped, and they opened their eyes.  She remained unconscious, but perhaps that was a mercy, and not just for her.

“She is out of danger.” Daeron said, tiredly.  “She will live.”

“I believe you are right.  How long have we been doing this?”

“I have no idea.”  Daeron did not look triumphant.  “My Lord, I do not know if –“

Thranduil chided the Guard.  “You did the best you could.  We all did.”

“We did indeed, My Lord.”  Elénaril said, with a resigned look.

Tilda, began to shiver. “We need to get her out and dried off.” Thranduil said.

Thranduil got out of the pool and took some large thick towels, and when Daeron handed her up to him, he wrapped her up, and carried her to the chaise lounge. 

After he lay her down, he went to the door, and called for Galion.

Galion came quickly, “She is all right?”

“She lives, but she is still comatose.  I will come out as soon as I can, and speak to you all.  Thank you for your help, and for the robes.”

The Aide nodded. “I have sent for a change of clothes for Elénaril, and Daeron; they should be here momentarily.”

“Thank you, Lord Galion.” Elénaril took a robe and a towel, then went into the necessary to dry off and change. 

Daeron and Thranduil changed as well, and together, they got Tilda dressed and her hair combed out and braided.

Thranduil carried his little girl into the nursery, and put her to bed, pulling the covers up to her chest.  Daeron stepped in after him.

“Her wet hair will help to keep her head cool, and that is good.” He told King, tiredly,  “She is in the Eru's hands now, My Lord,” his voice almost broke as he said those last words.

“I wish I could find more comfort from that.”  Thranduil stood up straight, and heaved a sigh.  “I will go and speak to my family, now.  They must know the entire truth.”

“Would you like me to wait for Elénaril, and come with you?”

“No, but thank you.  I must do this.” He turned toward the door, but then stopped, and turned back.

“Daeron?”

The guard had just sunk into a chair beside the bed, and closed his eyes.  He looked up at his King.  “Yes, My Lord?”

“I… want you to know I appreciate everything you’ve done, especially…  I understand why you had to...  bring me back to the moment.  If you had not –“  Thranduil blew his breath out, and tried to give him a weak smile. “Thank you, at least for not striking my left side.”

Daeron sat up straight, in consternation. “I am sorry, My Lord, but you were in shock, and..."

"I understand."

Daeron still looked upset.  "I should not have -"

“No!” Thranduil said.  “You were right.  In that room, I _could_ _not_ be a father.  Yours was an act of courage and loyalty, as brave as all your other efforts on Tilda's behalf.  Lieutenant, you refused to let me fail my child.  I am in forever in your debt.”

“There is no debt, My Lord.  Healing is much like soldiering; when there is a battle, we must fight with all our might, and only allow ourselves to feel afterward."

“So, I have seen.  I pray we never face a war such as this again."

“You have my continued prayer as you speak with the others, My Lord."

Thranduil heaved an exhausted sigh, then went out to speak with his frightened family.

It wasn’t over yet.

 

**Mid-afternoon in the Woodland Realm, 8 th February, 2942, T.A.**

They all were in the living room, now.  Was it afternoon, already?  Thranduil sighed.  No wonder he felt so exhausted. 

The children must be finished with classes and afternoon activities, because the three of them were sitting with Galion and Hilda on the couches, holding on to each other and waiting.  Everyone turned, with questioning eyes, as Thranduil walked in. 

Esta lifted her head when she saw him, then leapt to her feet, and quickly took off for Tilda’s room, to stand watch.

Thranduil stood in the room, and took a deep breath.  “Tilda is out of danger.  She is no longer feverish, her lungs are much clearer, and her ears and throat are better.  She is unconscious, but she will live.”

A collective sigh of relief filled the air. 

“I knew you could do it, _Ada!”_   Sigrid got up, wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight.  “I knew you could save her!”

He hugged her back, and kissed her hair. “Thank you _Iellig,_ but I must ask you to sit back down; I need to speak with you all.”

As Sigrid went to sit back down with Hilda, he sat down in the overstuffed chair, and faced his family.  Then he began.

“Tilda will live, but the fever was dangerously high, and the illness may have affected her in ways we do not know yet.” He met Hilda’s eyes.

“What is it, Thranduil?  What happened?” She said in hushed tones.

“Tilda developed Brain Fever.”

The woman turned ashen, and gasped. “Oh, my Stars…  Oh, no…” Her words were barely audible.

Sigrid wasn’t familiar with the term.  “What is that?” she asked, and she grabbed Hilda’s hand.

Thranduil explained.  “The infection from her ears traveled up into the sheath that surrounds her brain.  Between the three of us, we managed to kill it, and the fever.  We did it as carefully as possible, but it took us a long time.  We will need to watch her closely, for quite a while.”

“Why?” Bain asked in a thin voice Thranduil had never heard before.  Rhys held his arm, for encouragement.

“I will tell you all the truth, as I understand it.  According to Daeron, this type of disease could… affect Tilda.”  He saw Hilda's eyes closed in terror, but he continued.  It could affect her memory, the way she talks or even the way she thinks."  He swallowed.  “Brain Fever could cause weakness in her arms or legs and harm her ability to see, or to hear.  All of these possibilities could be temporary…” His voice wavered. “Or not.”

“You mean… she could be different, _forever?"_ Sigrid’s lip trembled.

“Yes, _Iellig._ ”  Thranduil’s breath caught, and his vision blurred.  “I... do not want to say these things to you, truly.  But you all need time to prepare yourselves for this possibility.  We _must_ be ready to accept Tilda, in whatever way she comes back to us.”  He blew out a long breath.  "I am so sorry."

“When will we know, Thranduil?”  Hilda asked, grasping Sigrid to her, who started to cry. “What do we do, now?”

“For now, we wait.  She is unconscious, and Daeron feels that is best, for now.  Her body needs to rest from everything we have done.  In a few hours, we will try to wake her up, and we may know some answers to our questions.  Until then, we wait and pray.”

Everyone on the couches sat very still and pale.

“Is Da coming?” Bain asked, his voice still tight, as he quickly wiped his cheek.

“I sent a messenger for him at first light.  I do not know what time it is now…”

“We had our midday meal several hours ago.” Galion said, getting up.  “I shall arrange something for you, My Lord.”

“Thank you.   Please prepare something for the others, as well.”

Daeron came out to the living room, looking exhausted.  “Elénaril is sitting with Lady Tilda, My Lord.  Her condition is unchanged, and she is resting, still."

Hilda got up and put her arm around the Guard. “You look dead on your feet, love.  We need to get you fed, and then you’re going to get some rest. What kind of shape is Elénaril in?” she asked Thranduil.

“She is not so fatigued, and could watch Tilda while we rest for a couple of hours.”

Bain sat up straighter.  “Daeron, if you need to stay close by, you can sleep in my bed.  We changed the sheets this morning.”

The Guard was grateful at the suggestion. “I thank you." He sighed, wearily.  "I do not wish to impose, but I need to be here, if Tilda needs something.” 

Sigrid asked Daeron.  “Could we see her?"

Daeron though for a moment.  “If you wash your hands thoroughly, and keep a kerchief against your mouth, you may look through the doorway, but only long enough to see her.  I would like to send for my books and notes, plus a change of clothing.  I will write down the materials I need, if you could please gather them.”

“Aye, then that’s what we’ll do.”  Hilda, bless her, shook her head, wiped  her eyes, and began giving orders.  “Daeron, love, go get that list made.”  To Sigrid and Bain, “Come on, you two; go get scrubbed up, so we can see the Little Bean.”  To Rhys she said, “Take the list of everything Daeron needs, to his mother, so she can get them together.  One of the guards can take you there, and help you carry it all back.  Galion, could you take Daeron to Bain’s room, and get him settled?  Thranduil, I want you to head straight to bed; you're done in.  We’ll make sure you get something to eat before you fall asleep.” She clapped her hands.  “Let’s go, everybody!”

Soon after, all was settled; the items were gathered and dispersed accordingly, Thranduil and Daeron were put to bed and given a meal on a tray, while Elénaril ate at Tilda’s bedside, and Esta continued her vigil.

There was nothing to do now, but wait.

 

Thranduil was beyond exhausted and was sure he’d fall asleep the instant his head hit the pillow, but when he closed his eyes, scenes from the last fourteen hours played over and over in his mind, and the anxiety kept slamming into him like waves.  The more he lay there in the quiet, the worse it became.

He got out of bed, and went into his dressing room, and quietly shut the door.  His eyes began to fill, and his breath came in gasps, so he put his hands over his mouth to try to calm his breathing, as he paced back and forth, before he staggered over to the wall and slid down to the floor.  His arms hugged his knees, and his shoulders began to shake from his silent sobs.

He was vaguely aware of the door opening, and felt someone sit down beside him.  Familiar, comforting arms, gathered him and held him, as Thranduil buried his head into Galion’s shoulder and his heart shattered.  He tried to talk, to tell Galion how scared he was, how sorry he was that he couldn’t do more, how much he had failed Bard, but he was shushed and held tighter.  He felt his glamour fall, so loving hands helped him adjust his head.  The Aide held him and let him cry it out, and made soothing noises, as he rubbed his back, and rocked him gently, just as he had done when Thranduil was a small child.  

After a while, when Thranduil had exhausted his tears, Galion carefully wiped his face, helped Thranduil get up, then tucked him into bed, with gentle kiss on his brow.

“Close your eyes, Thranduil. _Losto, Ionnauth nî_ _n,”_ he heard Galion murmur softly, _“Losto si.”_

 

Three hours later, Thranduil woke up, feeling a little better, and dressed quickly.  He hurried into the nursery, and saw Elénaril, checking Tilda’s pulse.

“Has there been any change?” he whispered.

The woman shook her head.  “But no fever, thank the Stars.”

“I will get Daeron, and be back shortly.”

He walked through the living room, and saw Sigrid, Rhys and Bain over at the table with Hilda, doing their lessons. 

“Galion said we needed to keep busy, so…” Sigrid shrugged.

“That is good thinking, _Iellig._    Boys, are you all right?”

Rhys nodded his head, soberly, and Bain said,  “I’m trying to concentrate, but…”

“I understand.  I am going to get Daeron, and we will find out what we can.  Please wait here with Hilda.”

The children got up from the table, and sat down on the couch. 

“I can’t do anything until I know.” Bain said, and Sigrid nodded in agreement.

“I will come out and tell you exactly what I find, as soon as we know.”  Thranduil told them.

Hilda did her best to give him a brave smile, as she put her arm around Sigrid. “Whatever comes, we will all handle it together.”

Thranduil woke Daeron, and they washed and made ready to see Tilda.  

When they entered the nursery, Elénaril stood, and made ready to leave.  “I am sorry, My Lord but I must go back to the Healing Hall.  She is resting comfortably, and I have seen no sign of further illness.”

Thranduil nodded.  “I thank you for all your help.”

Elénaril put her hand on his arm.  “ _Galu, Aran nîn_ _,”_ and left.

The Elves went over to the bed and sat on either side of Tilda, facing her.  Thranduil brushed the hair away from her face, then placed hands on her, to see if anything was amiss, but her body seemed calm.  He kissed her brow, and caressed her little cheek.  “Tilda, _Tithen Pen,_ it is time to come back to us.   _Ada_ is here, and I love you.  Please wake up, for me, _hênig."_ He placed her hand in both of his, kissed it, and began to massage it, gently.

Esta whined and wagged her tail.  She was waiting, too.

Daeron leaned forward, and shook her, gently.  “My Lady, can you wake for your _Ada_ , and all who love you?  We are anxious to speak with you, Tilda.” 

Nothing happened for several moments, then Thranduil noticed her fingers had moved, just a little.  Esta whined again, and leaned forward to lick her other hand in earnest.

 _“Tithen Pen,_ it is _Ada,”_ he said.  “Can you squeeze my hand?”

Her fingers moved again. 

“That is very good.  Can you do it once more?” he asked softly.  “Please, squeeze my hand again, _Hênig.”_

Her fingers moved once more, and Thranduil couldn’t help the sob that came from him.  She could hear him! 

“I am so proud of you, Tilda.”  He stroked her cheek again.  Could you open your eyes for _Ada_?  Please try.”

Esta licked her cheek in earnest, and whined, again. Her dark eyelashes fluttered over her cheekbones, and they held their breath. 

What will she see?   _Would she see at all?_

Finally, Thranduil saw the beautiful blue of Tilda’s eyes, and she blinked rapidly.  He stroked her forehead, and smiled, as best he could.  “That is wonderful, Tilda.  Can you look at me, child?”

She slowly turned her head toward the sound of his voice, but she was having trouble focusing, and scrunched her face up. 

Daeron quickly got up and dimmed the lamp.  “The light may bother her, at first,” he explained.

“Is that better?” Thranduil asked her.

She opened her eyes a bit wider.

“Can you tell me what you see, _Tithen Pen?_ ”

 _“Ada…”_ she breathed, looking right at him. Her voice was thin, and barely audible, but to Thranduil, it was beautiful music.  He squeezed her hand, and smiled.

“Yes, my little love; it is _Ada._ What else do you see?”

Esta licked her cheek again.  “Dog.” She said.

“Can you tell me her name, Tilda?” Daeron asked. 

She thought for a minute.  “Dog.”

The Guard persisted.  “This is Esta, My Lady.  Do you remember her?”

She didn’t say anything.

Daeron tried another tack.  “What color is Esta?  Could you tell me?”

Tilda looked confused, so he said, “Is she blue?

She shook her head. 

“Is she red?”

“No.”

“How about black?”

“Uh huh.”

"Does Esta have just one color, or two?"

"Two."

Thranduil asked, "She is black and...?" he looked at her hopefully, but Tilda just looked at him, trying to think.

"Soft."

"Yes, she is very soft, is she not?" 

“Aye.”

Thranduil’s throat tightened, and he swallowed several times, as he tried to keep up a cheerful smile. 

Daeron gave the little girl a brilliant smile.  “You have been far, far away, little Princess. We are very happy to see you."  He placed his hands on her chest.  “Can you take some deep breaths for me?”

She did as he asked, and he listened.  “Her lungs sound clear, and her heart is steady.”  He sat back up, and asked her, “Does your head hurt at all?”

 She nodded.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

She shook her head.

“Just a little?’

A nod.

Daeron stroked her hair, then sang some words to ease her headache.  “You did very, very well, Tilda.  Now, I need you to drink some tea for me; it will help your head feel better.  Can you do that?”

“Uh huh.”

Thranduil moved to sit against the headboard and propped her up against him.  He and the Guard helped her take small sips, until it was gone.

“Your mouth must have been dry."

She nodded, but made a face.

 "I know this tea is not your favorite, but you were a good girl for finishing it."

“Do you know where you are, Tilda?” Daeron asked her.

 _“Ada’s_ house.”

Daeron grinned at that.  _“Ada_ has a very big house, does he not?”

“Uh huh,” she said, softly, looking at Thranduil.

“Can you tell me what room you are in?”

Nothing. 

“Tilda, do you have brothers or sisters?”

She nodded.  “One.”

“Just one?”

Tilda was silent, and her brow furrowed.

Daeron tried something else.  “How many brothers do you have?”

“One.”

“And how many sisters, Tilda?”

“One.”

“Can you tell me their names, _Tithen Pen?”_ Thranduil asked.

She thought for a minute, and concentrated, but just looked at him.

“What is your _Ada’s_ name?” Daeron pressed further.

_“Ada.”_

They they had to be satisfied with that, for now. 

“Da?”  Tilda asked. 

Thranduil kissed her hair.  “You Da is coming, _Tithen Pen._   I am sure he will be here soon.”

She looked up at him with tired, but trusting eyes.

 “Would you like to sleep some more?” The Elvenking asked.

She nodded, and Daeron stood up, as Esta once again, lay down at her side, facing the little girl.

“Esta will be watching over you, and I will be right here, should you wake up.”  Thranduil said, as he helped her lay down.  Her eyes closed, and immediately fell asleep.

Thranduil listened, as Daeron went and told the others the encouraging news, and heard Hilda and Sigrid burst into tears from relief.  He wasn’t far from tears himself. 

He sat on the chair, leaned his elbow on the bed, and covered his eyes.  

There were frantic footsteps, then a dreadful, anguished noise.  Thranduil looked up and saw Bard, with a tormented face, fall to his knees, and double over.

Before he could react, Daeron appeared and helped Bard to sit up straight.

“Please, My Lord, she is…”

Bard grabbed at his chest, and slumped against Daeron, and whispered, “No... no... no…” He couldn’t get air in his lungs to speak, and his hands were over his ears.

Thranduil rushed to him, gently pried his hands away, then held his husband close, saying over and over.  “She is alive, Bard.  Her fever has broken, and she is just sleeping.” 

Thranduil said it, until Bard could take a breath, at last. 

He said it until Bard found the strength put his arms around his Elf, and hang on for dear life. 

He said it until Bard buried his face in Thranduil’s neck and sobbed with relief. 

They both did.

***************

 

Bard hid his face in his husband’s neck, until his heart stopped pounding, and he could breathe normally.  It wasn’t easy, because Thranduil was holding him so tight. 

He wouldn’t complain, though.  He had dreamt of these arms, and never needed them more.  As they knelt on the floor and held each other tight, Thranduil tearfully told him what had happened.

“Oh, Bard…it was just a cold, but then… it happened so fast...” Thranduil managed to get out.  “I am sorry, I am very sorry.”

“Will she be all right?”  Bard looked over Thranduil’s shoulder and looked to Daeron. “What happened here?”

“Tilda no longer has any infection, and no fever. We think, at this point, she will recover, but My King is right, My Lord; Tilda was _extremely_ ill.”

 “I need to see her.” He whispered, to Thranduil.

The Elvenking raised his head, and wiped his eyes.  “Of course, _Meleth nîn.”_ He quickly helped Bard up, and stepped out of the way.

Bard went to her bedside, and sat down, and stroked her hair.  She didn't look like herself; she looked frail, almost ghost-like.

“Oh, Little Bean…”  he whispered, and had to wipe his eyes some more. 

He turned to the Guard, and asked in a low voice.  “Could the infection return?  Could she get sick again?”

“It is a small possibility, yes, but we will watch her constantly for the next two or three days.  If something happens, we will do our best to stop it before it has a chance to take hold.”

Esta, still jammed against the other side of Tilda, raised her head, looked at Bard with intense dark eyes. 

“So, you’re Esta.  I’ve heard a lot about you.  Are you worried about her?”

Esta answered with a few thumps of her tail, before she laid her head back down on Tilda’s stomach.

“She watches over her, My Lord.  She will know, long before we do, if something in her body changes; and will alert us.”

Bard regarded the intelligent dog.  “I believe it, Daeron.  Look at her!  I don’t think you could take her from this bed, willingly.” 

 “She has been at Tilda’s side since she first became sick, Bard.”

“What exactly happened?” Bard looked between the Elvenking and the Guard.   

So, they explained.  When Daeron described her convulsions, Bard’s heart began to pound again, and when his husband said the words, “Brain Fever,” it nearly stopped.

“Oh, Valar…”  Brain Fever in children was almost always a death sentence, in Laketown.  There were a few children who lived, but were never the same.   _Please, no..._

Bard pleaded to his husband without words, too afraid to ask the questions.  Daeron answered for Thranduil.

 “My Lord, we woke her a short time ago.  She could see, and hear, and she knew King Thranduil.  She also knew where she was, and that she had a brother and a sister.”  The Guard smiled a little.  “She asked for you, and was pleased to know you were on your way."

“And that’s a good sign?”

“It is, but we need to remain cautious.” Daeron went on, “I plan to test her more thoroughly. I am hopeful, but Tilda is very weak, and will be for some time.”

Thranduil added. “Esta came and woke me when Tilda became worse.  She is the reason we were with her she became critically ill.”

Bard reached over the pet the dog’s head. The dog responded by licking his hand, before turning back toward her charge.    

Daeron put his hand on Bard’s shoulder.  “Tilda will not wake for some time, My Lord. I suggest you two go and see your family.  Do not worry; Esta and I will stay with her, and alert you the moment she wakes.”

The dog raised her head from Tilda’s hip and wagged her tail, as Bard smiled and scratched her ears.  He kissed Tilda’s forehead, then got up and let Daeron take his place.  As he and Thranduil left the room, he looked back at the Guard.

“She is just sleeping, My Lord; this is good for her.  Go see your family.”

Bard was still reluctant to leave his little girl, but he nodded to the Guard, and they went out into the living room.

“Da!” Bain shouted and grabbed him, followed by Sigrid, and Hilda was right behind them, blowing her nose.  They all stood and held each other for a few minutes, before Bard sat down, with his arms around Sigrid and Bain.  Bard looked over at Thranduil, who was sitting next to Galion and Rhys, and Hilda took the chair. 

“I missed you so much, Da,” Sigrid leaned her head against Bard’s shoulder.

“I know, my girl.” He kissed her hair.  “I missed you all. But I’m glad to be here, and we’ll get Tilda well again.”

Bain squeezed his arm.  “We will.” The boy was determined.  “Whatever she needs.”

Galion asked, “Have you eaten?”

“I ate a little something on the road; I can wait till dinner time.”

“It is time for dinner, now.  I will see to it.” The Chief Aide looked to Thranduil.  “Shall I arrange for some broth to be prepared for Tilda?”

“That is a good idea.  And have them bring a warmer, so it will keep longer.  She will probably only take a few sips at a time.  See if Daeron wants more tea for Tilda, as well.  Elénaril can have it made and brought here.”

Galion got up to leave, and looked down at Thranduil and gave him a reassuring smile.

Bard watched his husband look up at Galion with gratitude. “Thank you, _Mellon nîn.”_  He whispered. “For everything.”

“I could do no less.” The Aide nodded, and went to arrange things.

Bard gave his Elf the once-over, with half a smile.  “You look terrible.”

“Do not worry about me.  Tilda is still with us, and that is all that matters.”  Still, Thranduil lay his head back on the couch, and closed his eyes.

Hilda leaned forward.  “Bard, those two stayed up all night, steaming her lungs in the bathing room. Elénaril showed up this morning, it took most of the day, but between the three of them, they managed to knock out whatever was going on.  They saved her, Bard.  Heroes, every one of them.”

Bard swallowed and looked at his husband.  He could feel Thranduil’s exhaustion, and distress, still.  He shared it. 

Sigrid sniffed.  “This whole place reeks of eucalyptus, and I don’t care one bit.  If we had to smell it forever, I wouldn’t care.”

“I would.  But it would be worth it.” Bain added. 

"It is worth it." Rhys said, looking up at Thranduil, beside him. "I'm glad she's better."  Thranduil smiled, and put his arm around the boy.

Sigrid snuggled into Bard.  “I’m so glad you’re here, Da.”

He set his chin on her head.  “Me, too, love.  Have you seen her?”

“We looked in on her earlier, before she woke up.  Daeron said she was going to sleep a lot.” Bain said.

“He told me that too.” Bard kissed Sigrid’s hair, and hugged Bain, then got up.  “I’ll see you later, I promise. I just need to…” he paused.

“We know, Da.”  Bain said.  “Go.”

Bard quietly walked back into Tilda’s room, where Daeron was listening to her heart and lungs.  Then he checked for fever.

“Her heart remains steady, and there is only a small amount of congestion in her lungs, which is to be expected.  No sign of fever, or infection anywhere.”  Daeron said.

Bard saw the weariness in the Guard.  “Would it be better if she were moved to the infirmary?”

“No, My Lord.  Until I consult my books, I would like her to be kept in isolation.  In any case, she will rest better in familiar surroundings.” Daeron then added, “If you would, Lord Bard, please change into a clean outfit and wash your hands and face, before you sit with her, or touch her.  I will explain later.”

Bard agreed.  “You’re exhausted, Daeron.  Thranduil’s dead on his feet, too; I’m about to send him back to bed.  What do you need?”

The Guard looked at him a bit sheepishly.  “I need to be nearby to monitor her, but you are correct.  I am _very_ tired."

“Tell you what.” Bard said.  “I’ll have Rhys move into Bain’s room, for the next few days.  The bed in there is plenty big enough for the both of them, and we’ll get you settled in the spare room.  Make a list of everything you’ll need, and Galion and Hilda will see it done.”

“Are you sure that will be all right?”  Daeron asked.  “I would feel better if I was here, but…”

Bard reassured the Elf.  “Daeron, this is our baby, and if she’s safer with you here, then I’ll give you the King’s bed, if I have to, and Thranduil and I can sleep on the floor.  Don’t worry; Bain will do anything to help his sister.  I’ll arrange it.”

Bard stepped back out, and of course, the boys were eager to be of service, so the children moved Rhys in with Bain.  Daeron’s mother brought his things, then Galion and Hilda changed out the bedding, and arranged his room.  Thranduil sent for another Healer to work night duty, and soon, an attractive, black-haired _elleth_ arrived, named Meriel. 

The Guard wearily made ready to go to his room, after giving the other Healer some quick instructions in Sindarin.

“Daeron?” Bard got up and walked to the Guard, and clasped his forearm. “I know I thought you were a pain in the arse, when we first met,” he smiled wryly, “but I’m more grateful than I could ever say, for this.”

“I thank you, My Lord.”  The Guard looked weary. "I hope..."

Bard cleared his throat.  “I know.  Go get some sleep; and we’ll get you if we need you.”

Daeron saluted everyone.  “I will return later this evening to check on her.”  Then the tired Guard left.

Thranduil came in and sat down next to Bard, and leaned his head on his shoulder. “I am powerful, Bard, and I do well with injuries, but Tilda needed the knowledge and skill of a good Healer.  She would be dead, now, if it were not for him.”

Bard put his arm around him.  “I could spend every day of my life thanking Daeron, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”  He kissed Thranduil’s hair.  “You should go rest some more, love.”

His Elf whispered,  “I am tired, but cannot bear to be apart from you.”

Bard entwined Thranduil’s fingers in his, and nodded.  No words were needed, so they sat together, and propped each other up, while they watched their daughter sleep.

 

***************

 

Everything felt fuzzy, especially in her mouth - it felt dry and sticky.  Her head felt really heavy, and it was hard to move. 

Slowly, Tilda opened her eyes, blinked several times, and looked at the high ceiling.  It was dark, but over there was the lamp. _Ada_ must have turned it down low.  That was good; bright things made her face scrunch up.

Something moved against her leg, and she heard whining.  A tongue was licking her hand, so she moved her fingers and felt soft fur.  It felt good.

There was a another noise, so she tried to open her eyes more to see, but it was really hard.

A cool hand was stroking her forehead and her cheeks, and she liked how nice it felt.   _Ada's here_ , she thought, at first. But something was different, though; _Ada’s_ and Daeron’s fingers are soft, and felt good. 

This one was rougher and a little scratchy, but familiar...

“Hey Little Bean,” a soft voice said, and something about it made her wake up more.

She turned her head a little, to see who it was, then finally, she saw the face.

“Da…” she whispered.

“Yes, darling.  Da’s here.”  His face looked sad, and really splotchy, and his eyes were all red.  Was he crying?

“You’re sad.” She said.

“Oh no, love, I’m just so happy to see you."  Da smiled, and he sniffled, a little.  Maybe Da caught a cold, too.

He was holding her hand, so she squeezed his fingers, like _Ada_ asked before.  Da must have liked it when she did that, because he smiled kissed it, a couple of times, like Ada does…

 _“Ada?”_ He had been sitting there before.  Where did he go?

“Your _Ada_ has gone to get some sleep, love, but he’ll see you as soon as he wakes up.”

Da looked like he was really upset, even if he said he was happy.

"You're sad," she said, again.

Just then, an Elf she didn’t know stood beside her father’s chair.  She had a nice smile, and long hair.  It was the same color as Da’s, but hers was straight, not curly.  She had pretty eyes, too. 

“Hello, Lady Tilda.  I am Meriel, and I want to check you over quickly, then you can visit with your father.  Is that all right?”

“Uh huh.”

The pretty Elf felt her forehead, put her hands on her chest.  Then she said to take deep breaths. 

“Why?”

“I must listen to your lungs.”

“Lungs?” Tilda didn’t know what she meant.

“Lungs are organs inside your body, that take in air,” Meriel had a nice smile. 

"Oh." And she breathed in, like they wanted.

The Elf nodded her head. “The air in your lungs sound clear, Tilda. You are doing well.” She patted Tilda’s arm, then stepped back, and came back with a cup.  “Here is some tea, we need you to drink.”

She tried to sit up, but then Da sat on the bed with her, and then leaned her against his chest.

“Is that better, Little Bean?”

“You’re here,” she looked at him.

“I sure am, love.  There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”  He grinned at her, and kissed her forehead.  She liked sitting against him.  “Now, are you ready to drink this, for Da?”

 She nodded, so he held the cup to her lips. She took a few sips, and made a face.

“It’s icky.”

“We have sweetened it, as before."  Meriel told her.  “Your Da and I need you to be a brave girl, and drink it all.  This will help you get well, again.”

She looked up at her Da.

“She’s right, love.  We need to get you better, right?  Can you be a big brave girl, for your Da?"

So, she finished the tea, and even some broth that Da spooned into her mouth after.   It didn’t really taste like much, but it wasn't yukky like the tea.

“Do you need to pee, Little Bean?”

Tilda had to think for a minute.  “Uh huh.”

So, Da carried her to the room, followed by Meriel.  He opened the door, but she frowned.

 “You can’t.”  She shook her head.

"Darling, you can't go by yourself -"

Tilda shook her head again, and pointed at the pretty Elf.

 “She's a girl."

“Whoops, you’re right; sorry about that.” Da smiled, and handed her to Meriel.

The pretty Elf helped her, which was good, because she was _really_ tired! Then Da carried her back to her bed.  

“Do you want to snuggle?”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, love.  Let’s get settled, all right.” Da told her.  He took off his boots and sat down on the bed against the headboard. Tilda closed her eyes, when she felt his arms go around her.  “There.  Is that better?”

She nodded. Da felt so good.

 “Missed you.” She said.

“And I missed you, Little Bean.”  She felt him hug her tighter and he kissed the top of her head. “I love you so much.”

“You came."

“ _Ada_ said you didn’t feel good, so I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I got sick." She whispered.

“You sure did.  I see  _Ada_ put you in your very own room.  Do you like it?”

She nodded her head.

“I like your dog,” Da told her.

Tilda looked over at Esta, who crawled over and licked her face.  She wanted to laugh, but she was too tired.  “I wrote you.”

“I know you did.  I have your letters, and all your pictures, darling.  Uncle Percy and Tauriel do, too.”

She closed her eyes, snuggled into him some more, and heard him whisper, “Go to sleep, Little Bean. Da’s here, now.”

Da was here. 

Everything will be better.

 

 

SINDARIN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Ai, gorgor! –_ Literally means “Oh, horrors!” which can be interpreted as “Oh, shit!”

 _Avo dheo andin, Aran Nîn_ _; daro a maethor! Natho den!_  – Do not fail her, My King; stay and fight!  Help her!

 _Losto, ion-nauth ni_ _̂_ _n_ – Rest, son of my heart.

 _Losto si_ – Rest now

 _Galu, Aran nîn_ – Good luck, My King.

 

 

NOTES:

Catarrh – older term for upper respiratory infection.

Lung Fever – older term for pneumonia

Brain Fever – older term for meningitis

All the terms for ancient medicine was taken off of this site:

<http://www.thornber.net/medicine/html/medgloss.html>

 

 

I am by no means any kind of medical expert on this, but I should tell you that Tilda became sick with Middle Earth’s version of Brain Fever, something resembling what we call H. Influenzae Meningitis.  Fortunately, Middle Earth has Elves to help with such things.  I only wish the residents of our world could be so lucky…

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tilda has a good night, snuggled up with her Da. Before everyone wakes, Thranduil and Galion have a heart-to-heart. Daeron meets and educates the family about her illness, and outlines a treatment plan for her. They discuss ways to keep all the children in the Palace safe.
> 
> Thranduil and Bard meet with Hilda for a frank discussion; it's time she was made aware of some things.
> 
> Later, as Tilda naps, Daeron reflects on all the changes in his life, since he came to Dale...

 

 

 

 

**Morning in The Woodland Realm, 9 th of February; 2942, T.A.**

 

Thranduil got up early, put on his robe and peeked into the nursery.  Meriel was still there at Tilda’s bedside, and Bard was sitting against the headboard, fast asleep, holding Tilda to him, with his hand on her hair.  Esta, true to form, was right beside them, with her head resting on Bard’s leg.

“Good morning, My Lord.” The Healer whispered.  She stood, and they went to the doorway, and spoke in low tones.

“How is she?”

“Lady Tilda awoke in the night, spoke a little, and had some tea and broth.  She was very happy to see Lord Bard.” She smiled over at Bard and Tilda. “I am pleased to see her sleep so deeply, on her own.  Daeron and I discussed a _losta-luith,_ but it appears she does not need one.”

Esta jumped down from the bed, and went over to them, wagging her tail, excitedly. “ _Mára arin, Esta_.”  He leaned down to scratch he behind the ears.  “Esta would not be eager to leave, if she thought Tilda needed her; this is a good sign, is it not?” he asked the Healer.

“I believe so, My Lord.  I have checked the child frequently throughout the night, and I can find nothing amiss, besides weakness and exhaustion.  No sign of infection, no fever, and her lungs sound satisfactory.  She has coughed some, but that is to be expected.”

He told the Healer he would return momentarily, then sent Esta out with a guard.  After he closed the door again, he leaned against it for a few moments, with a sigh.  The rest of the household would not be awake for another hour or so, and he found the stillness soothing.

 _Gwennig nestad;_ _De vilui, O Elbereth…_ He closed his eyes and gave thanks that he was merely waiting for his family to awaken, and not helping Bard plan a funeral.

Thranduil walked over to fireplace, and looked on the mantle.  There were now several framed sketches that had joined the ones of Legolas and Tauriel, and he lightly passed his fingers over his drawing of Tilda, with a small smile.  The door opened, and Galion walked in.  He was earlier than usual, too.

 _“Aur vaer, Thranduil._   How is our Tilda?”

“She is sleeping soundly.  Bard is with her, and she had an uneventful night, thank the Valar.”

Galion looked relieved.  “That is joyous news.” He sighed.  “How do you fare?  Are you well?”

“I slept last night, so I feel stronger.”

“That is good.” Galion scrutinized his face closely.   

He gestured for Thranduil to sit on the couch, and went to close the door to the children’s apartment, and sat beside him. “Thranduil, you have been through a great deal in the last several months, and these past days have been unspeakably hard.  I wish to know if you are all right.”

Thranduil sighed, and thought about it.  “I am… overwhelmed.  And frightened.”

“Why are you frightened?”

“I felt like I had failed to protect her.”  Thranduil blinked, as his eyes filled.  “Bard trusted me with his children, and Tilda got so sick…”

“Tilda’s illness is no reflection on your care or concern, Thranduil.  That is no failing of yours, or anyone else’s.”  Galion said.  “You love her very much.”

“I do.” his lips trembled.  “I am afraid for her, but I am afraid for myself, as well.  What if it happens again, Galion?”

“What happens again?”

Thranduil looked down into his lap, and rubbed his forehead.  “I am afraid of…  turning into what I was, if she dies, or if any of them should die, no matter how much I do not want to.”

“Are you afraid of shrinking away from life, as you did when Mírelen was killed?”

“I ran away from my feelings for a long time, and I feel myself struggling not to do it again.  If Tilda _had_ died, would I turn back into an icy, unfeeling monster, again?”

His friend spoke gently.  _“Mellon nî_ _n,_ you were never that.  Since you’ve been with Bard, you have learned a great deal about yourself, have you not?”

Thranduil nodded, still looking down. “You told me it is not a matter of strength or weakness, it is a matter of knowing oneself.  My mother said something similar, when we said farewell at the Grey Havens.”

“I remember, Thranduil.  And she was right.”

Thranduil smiled sadly.  “I am only sorry it took me so long to understand what she meant.”

“It does not matter how long it took.  All that matters, is that you did.”

The Elvenking looked at him.  “Loving someone can be frightening.”

“Thranduil, it is _always_ a risk when we love, is it not?  And we do not choose it; we oftentimes have no choice in the matter.  All we can decide, is what we do with this risk.”

“Suppose Bard died?  We talk of forever, but Mithrandir did not guarantee either of us freedom from death, despite the blessing from the Valar.  Bard and I do not like to think about it, but times like these remind me I could lose him, too.  I could lose them all!”

“Yes, Thranduil, you could.  It is normal to fear such things, especially after you have experienced heartbreak.  But ask yourself this:  You tried to avoid love so you could to avoid loss.  Did all those centuries ‘hiding’ make you stronger?  Did it really protect you, as you hoped it might?”

Thranduil considered.  “No, it did not,” he sighed. 

“So, you know yourself even more, now.  You are changed, _Ion-nauth nîn_ _,_ and I do not think you will suffer so again.”

Thranduil looked at Galion.  “If I did, there are many who would not let me fail myself again.  Daeron did that very thing, yesterday.”

“What do you mean?  What happened?”

“When Tilda had her seizure, I was sure she was dying, and I… got lost; I froze.  Daeron had to be harsh, and forced me back to the present, to help Tilda.  I was glad, and I thanked him for it.”

Galion smiled. “Sometimes we all need, as Hilda puts it, ‘A good kick in the arse,’ to get us back where we want to be. Daeron did what was necessary to snap you out of it.”

“When Legolas was small, you lost your temper, because Legolas needed me, and I was hiding from it.  I should have listened to you then, but instead I got angry, and pulled rank.  It was wrong of me.”  Thranduil smiled.  “From now on _Mellon nîn,_ I command you, as your King, to _never let me_ command you, as your King, to stop telling me things I need to hear.”

“I shall have that edict written signed and sealed, within the hour.”  Galion deadpanned.

They laughed, then Thranduil became serious.   “It is selfish, to be talking of myself, after what Tilda went through.”

“No, Thranduil.” Galion said.  “Times like these remind us how much we need to look out for each other, do you not think?”

The Elvenking gave a sad smile.  “As you looked out for me, yesterday.”

“You needed a chance to express your sorrow, Thranduil.” Galion assured him, then he added, softly.  “Much like I did, when I went to my rooms last night.”

Thranduil leaned forward.  “You spend all your time caring for others, and I often forget that you need support.  For this, please forgive me.  I wish to know how _you_ fare, _Mellon nîn._ ”

“I…” Galion swallowed.  “I could not imagine what our days would be like, if our _Tithen Pen_ left us.  I have found joy in caring for her in the afternoons.  I love seeing her smile so brightly when she spells a word correctly, or her look of concentration when she is drawing a picture, or to watch her sleep, when she naps on my couch.”  He reached for Thranduil’s hand. “They are all part of my heart, but to have our little one be in such danger…”

It was Thranduil’s turn to be strong for Galion, and he reached over and embraced him.  “We could not be the family we are, without you.  I could not be _anything,_ without you!  You are my touchstone, as you always have been, Galion.  You give so much, and yet you get so little in return.  I am sorry for that.”

Galion sat up straight.  “That is not true, Thranduil.  It is in my nature to look after those I care about.  I feel stronger, when I can be help others be strong.  It is how the Valar made me.”

“But it seems unfair that you do not have anyone.  I do not understand the will of the Valar, in this.  I have loved not only once, but twice! You are alone, because my father did not return your feelings.  It seems cruel, to me.”

Galion didn’t seem surprised that Thranduil knew.  “Please, do not worry about me.  At one time I did desire Oropher, and yes, I've always loved him, but now I see I was not meant to live that life.  What if I had, Thranduil? Look at all the people your father brought into my life because he loved your mother, and not me?  I have loved helping to raise you, and Legolas and Tauriel.  Now we have Bard and his children.  And someday,” He grinned, “there will be grandchildren! From the loss I suffered, I have gained much, much more.” 

“I hope you know, my father loved you, as the dearest of friends.  So did my mother.”

The Aide smiled and squeezed his hand. “He did, and he never begrudged me the feelings I once had.”

 _“Adar_ knew?”

Galion nodded.  “Shortly before his marriage to your mother, I decided to leave his service, thinking there would be no place for me. He came to me, and we talked for a very long time.  He told me how it grieved him to hurt me so, but he needed me in his life, if I could find a way.

“Your father and I made sure there was nothing hanging between us, and, in the end, I decided to stay, and I have never regretted it.  I _wanted_ to be by his side, Thranduil, and I never again sought what he was unable to give me.  I grew to care about your mother, very much. On the day you were born, your father asked me to look after you, should anything happen to him, and it has been my joy to keep that promise. 

“I discovered I needed no bond-mate to feel complete. I did not ‘settle,’ for this life, Thranduil; do not pity me.  Galion smiled at him, and patted his hand.  “If everything I do is out of a deep love for you, for them, and for our home, how could my life be empty?” 

The Elvenking looked over at his _Adar-nauth_.    “You may think your place is behind me, Galion, but that is not so.  You are the bedrock to my life; you are the foundation for everything I do and everything I am, every bit as much as my parents, and I never want to take that for granted.”

“Thank you.” Then Galion sat back and smirked.  “And do not worry about taking things for granted.  If Hilda ever caught any of us doing that, she would be certain to let us know, would she not?”

There was a knock at the door, and Daeron entered, carrying a large bundle of what looked like clean laundry, followed by Esta.  He set it down on low table by the couches.  “Good morning, My Lord,” he saluted Thranduil.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.  I thought you were sleeping in Rhys’s room.”

“I was, but I rose some time ago to consult with my books and to retrieve some things.  Has there been any change?”

“Meriel reported that all was well.  She is sleeping soundly, in the arms of her father.”

Daeron nodded.  “That is good.  I hate to disturb him, but I must speak with you all, before the children wake up.” 

The Guard sounded ominous, and Thranduil’s stomach stirred with anxiety.  “I will go get Bard, and Galion, would you get Hilda?”

“Of course.”

Thranduil and Daeron walked into the nursery.  As the Guard quietly conferred with Meriel, the Elvenking thoughtfully observed Bard and their daughter sleep.  Tilda was in the same position she was in before, snuggled closely to her Da, with her head on his lap.  She had hardly moved, since they brought her back from the bathing pool. 

He sighed sadly. That was so unlike her; she normally kicked and flailed her legs all through the night.  On the nights she crawled into bed with him, he normally found it annoying – and on one occasion painful.  This morning, as Thranduil watched the pale, sleeping girl, he offered the Valar anything they wanted, if she could be given the chance to kick at him again.

Thranduil stepped over to the bed, and shook Bard gently, and whispered.  “Bard? _Meleth nîn,_ Daeron would like to speak with us.”

The Bowman blinked, and opened his eyes, and took a moment to orient himself.  He looked down at Tilda.  “Is something wrong?” he whispered.

Meriel was quick to reassure him.  “She is still doing well, My Lord.  I will watch over her.”

Ever so gently, Thranduil and Bard managed to get him out of the bed, and settle her back down.  Esta took her place beside her, while everyone stepped outside.

Once everyone was in the living room and seated, Daeron began to speak:

“This morning, I spent some time with Lord Elrond’s books and my own notes concerning this type of Brain Fever, so I could be sure of all the facts.  With your leave, I would like to outline my concerns, along with a treatment plan for Tilda, and I will need your cooperation.”

“Of course.” Bard said.  “Anything.”

Daeron nodded.  “Tilda will be constantly monitored for the three or four days, but the fact that she did not deteriorate in any way last night, is an encouraging sign.  If she continues as such, then the danger will pass.  I still urge caution, because, there are things that we must consider.

“First, when Tilda first became ill with her cold, Lord Thranduil might have appeared to overreact, but in this case, he did the right thing, by isolating her from the other children.  For the most part since then, only Elves have cared for her, and they are impervious to disease. 

“Lady Hilda has also been in her room, but she has made sure to wash her hands thoroughly, so as not to spread Tilda’s cold to the others.  This works in our favor because,” he blew out his breath, “I have discovered that Brain Fever can be contagious.”

The four of them froze, in shock. 

“Oh, gods…” Bard stammered and his face whitened, and he grasped at his stomach, and looked desperately at Hilda, who didn’t look much better.

“What do we need to do?” Galion asked, after he took Hilda’s hand.

Daeron continued.  “We will take all precautions, and I will monitor the children closely.  For now, they seem perfectly healthy.”

Galion, confirmed this to Bard, “We have been watching for signs, and see nothing, My Lord.”

Hilda reassured Bard.  “He’s right, love.  There’s nothing wrong with them.”

“That is reassuring, but they need to stay in this part of the Palace for at least four days, at this end of the hall.  None of us can be near other children, in case we are unwitting carriers.  We must especially avoid any contact with Rhian and the baby, or even my aunt Indis.  I know this seems extreme, but considering how close Tilda came to death…  I do not want any other child to suffer.”

“It is _not_ extreme, if children could be endangered.” Thranduil said, and all the other adults readily agreed.

“But the other children have been to school; even yesterday!” Hilda became alarmed.  “Galion and I have been nagging after them day and night to scrub up and clean up, but what if one of them gets sick?”

Galion turned to Bard, “When Tilda first got sick, Hilda ordered us all to wash our hands frequently.  We have also repeatedly washed things, such as handles, door knobs, the backs of chairs… anything we all touch.”

“Aye.  That’s what we did back in Laketown.  Medicine’s expensive, what little there was of it.” Bard affirmed. 

“That is very clever.” Daeron said. “If we continue to do this, then there will be minimal danger.”  

Bard thought for a minute. “But there’s still a chance this could spread to the other children of Dale?”

“It is not likely, since Tilda was already isolated when she began to deteriorate. However, Lady Hilda, I suggest you speak with  Mistress Bronwyn, and if you all decide to take precautions, I will be glad to help you put a plan in place.”  He turned to Bard.  “This type of illness may not be as contagious as the others, but it can be devastating.”

 “You’re right.” Bard told him. “We’ll follow your lead in this, and I grant you full authority to protect my people in whatever way you see fit.”

 The Guard nodded thanks.  “I will do my best, My Lord.”  Then he continued.  “This brings me to the second thing we need to speak about:  Tilda’s body is extremely vulnerable, and will be for quite a while.  She’s got no strength to fight off illness and disease, and even a very minor thing could devastate her.  To that end, I want anyone who goes to see her to fasten their hair back, and scrub their hands thoroughly before entering the room, and to put on one of these light robes over your clothes.  Wear a clean one, every time you go in, and discard it as soon as you leave the room.” 

Daeron continued, “Elves, do not suffer from illness, but we could carry particles on our clothing that could harm her right now.  Those from the race of Men, must not only wash and wear the robes, they must cover their mouth and nose, as you are susceptible to sneezing and coughing, and could send harmful particles through the very air she breaths.” He held up a small pile of clean kerchiefs.  “You must wear these over your mouth and nose while you are in her room to prevent further illness.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, but Thranduil met Bard’s eyes, meaningfully. 

“How long would we have to do this?”  Bard asked. 

“For at least two weeks, maybe more, depending on how Tilda recovers.”

Galion then asked, “What about Esta?”

Bard added.  “From what I’ve seen of the dog, I don’t think you could keep her away, willingly.  Besides, you said she can alert us to any change in her, before she even shows symptoms.  She could be her best chance at preventing more complications.”

Daeron agreed with all of that.  “Has she been with Tilda exclusively, since she became sick?”

“Almost all the time, yes.”

“I suggest she be given a bath, then make sure she keeps to the nursery.  If the children wear masks, so they do not cough or sneeze on her, they could wash her.  They must be instructed not to pet her.  We will wipe her down every time she comes in from outdoors, especially her paws.  Keep her confined to Tilda's room, or the King’s garden; nowhere else.  The benefits of her with Tilda outweigh the risk, so we will do what we can.”

Thranduil nodded.  “All will be as you say.”

Daeron took a deep breath, and continued.  “This recovery, is the third element we need to speak about.  Have any of you seen the effects of Brain Fever?”

Hilda closed her eyes, painfully.  “Oh, yes, and it kills me to even think of it.  It usually hits small children, and they almost always died.  Some recovered, and went back to normal, but there were a few who…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.  Thranduil looked over at Bard, who didn’t look much better.

“There was a boy, who was blinded, and lost most of his hearing.  Another girl about four years old, was left a vegetable.” Bard added.

“It is a terrible thing to think about,” Thranduil took Bard’s hand, “but I spoke frankly to everyone yesterday, and we are all resolved to accept and support Tilda, however this illness might change her.  I hated to frighten them,  _Meleth nîn_ , but I wanted to give them time to adjust.”

“Oh, gods…” The reality of all this was finally hitting Bard, and he slumped against Thranduil, who was rubbing his eyes, and trying to hold it together.

“ _Meleth nîn?_ She responded well, last night, did she not?  Let us keep that in mind, as we listen to what Daeron has to say.”

After a moment, Bard blew out a long sigh, and steeled his expression, before he nodded to Daeron to continue.

“Lord Thranduil is right.  We were given encouraging signs last evening, and this is good news.  What is working in Tilda’s favor, is that the disease became acute while in the presence of myself, and Lord Thranduil, so it was dealt with as quickly as possible.” 

“However, we will need to watch her very closely for a long time afterwards.  Some effects of Brain Fever are not immediately apparent, so we need to monitor her hearing, her sight and her personality.  _Everyone_ must make note of anything out of the ordinary, even if it seems minor, please make me aware of it, so I can measure her progress or find new ways to help her.

“It is important to also note her level of fatigue, or mood, or what other things were happening around her.  If we need to make adjustments to her treatment, all these things can help.

“Lady Tilda’s memory could be temporarily affected, and there may be things she will not remember at all.  We must be calm and _very_ patient, if she cannot remember something, _never_ get upset in front of her.  Her moods may change very suddenly and she could become combative, if she gets upset or frustrated, yet we must remain calm, and encouraging, as her body learns to compensate.”

They all sat in silence, for a few moments, while all this information sank in.  Thranduil could feel Bard’s hand shake in his, and he squeezed it even tighter.

Hilda, bless her, cleared her throat, stood up, and immediately began to set things in motion.  “We’ve got a plan here, so let’s get to it.  Galion, let’s get everyone a good, hot breakfast. Bard, you go get the kids up, so we can explain what’s going on.  Thranduil, have a guard bring Bronwyn to your study, so we can discuss what to do about school.  When we’re done with that, Bard, you need a bath, and a good nap; you look as terrible as Thranduil did, yesterday.  Come on, everybody, let’s get this done!”

And they did.

 

***************

 

Daeron sent for more special tea and broth for Tilda, and the children got up for breakfast.  The children were told a kinder, gentler version of Daeron’s speech, and naturally, they agreed to help Tilda as much as possible. 

Bronwyn was sent for, and the adults met in Thranduil’s study across the hall, while Galion and the children remained in the apartment.   

“I told Thranduil the kids are stronger because of all the good food you’ve been feeding them, so that should help.  I’m surprised so many even caught colds at all.”  Hilda observed.

“You are right about the nutritious food, Lady Hilda, and it helps them a great deal,” Daeron said, “but keep in mind that your people live on land now, and are coming into contact with different things, such as plants, and animals.  I suspect it takes a while for their bodies to adjust, but in time, they will.”

“So, is that why Tilda got so sick?” Bard asked. 

“Perhaps.  Her illness was rare, and it was a complication borne from another illness, My Lord.  She may have been susceptible because of all the changes in her life.  Lady Hilda says she’s always been a bit sensitive, so that could be a part of it.  In any case, the treatment and the precautions for everyone would not change.”

Bard turned to Bronwyn, “He’s right.  Please tell your parents that I want them to report to the Healers as soon as they see any kind of illness in their children.  Repeat to them what Daeron just said, and hopefully, that will convince them.  And go ahead with the quarantine.”

Thranduil added.  “Rather than send the children to the Healing Hall, I will have my guards keep watch, and send the healers to them.”

“Even better, My Lord.” Daeron said, and Bard nodded in agreement.  Then they hammered out the details of their plan, and the Guard and Schoolteacher made ready to carry it all out. 

After Bronwyn and Daeron left, Thranduil and Bard asked Hilda to stay. 

“We need to talk to you, Hil; there’s something you need to know. Otherwise, I’d have to lie to you, and I won’t do that.”

Hilda looked bemused.  “I don’t understand.  What’s wrong?”

“There’s nothing wrong; it isn’t like that.  Some things have changed, and you need to know about it.”  Bard looked at Thranduil, then back at his friend.  “There was… more to my marriage to Thranduil, than just the ceremony, and we were strongly advised to keep this to ourselves, until we knew everything this would entail.  Gandalf warned that things could be misconstrued by others, and we didn’t want to burden anyone until we knew more.”

“What is it?  If you’re wondering if I know about Elven birds and bees, don’t worry.  I already know all about that.”

Thranduil leaned forward.  “Hilda, as you know, there are many differences between Men, and Elves.  Until now, there have rarely been any marriages between the two races.  It is also very unusual for Elves to fall in love more than once. 

“Bard and I are…  a unique case, and it is a long, involved story. To sum it up, we were offered, by the Valar, special dispensation to marry.”

“Because you’re both men?  And Kings?”

“Not at all, Hilda, the Valar offered us one of two choices; either I would bond with Bard and become Mortal, and follow him to his afterlife, or he would become Immortal, and join me in Valinor when the time comes for us to leave Middle Earth.”

Hilda’s eyes widened, when she looked at the Elvenking. “Are you saying you won’t…   You’ll die, now?”

Bard said gently, “No, Thranduil will not die, Hilda, and neither will I.” He leaned forward.  “I’ve chosen _his_ fate.”

The woman sat back, and let it sink in.  “Bard?  You mean…?”

“Aye.  I won’t age, or become ill, and I will not die, unless I’m killed.  Even at that, I won’t be with any of you in the afterlife.  I will be with Thranduil in Valinor.  The fact that I won’t age, is one of the reasons why Gandalf urged secrecy, for as long as possible.  I’m telling you now, because I won’t be wearing a mask when I’m in with Tilda; I didn’t want you to think I was being careless.  I think Tilda will do better, if she can see my face, and I won’t wear one and lie to you.”

“But… why wouldn’t you tell me or Percy!  We’re your best friends, Bard!  We wouldn’t tell anybody!”

Bard nodded.  “Of course, I trust you two - with my life! I would have told you anyway, I promise.  It’s just that… _you are_ my best friends – you’re my family and I need you, but…I think I needed some time to adjust to it myself, before I shared that with you.  I’m still trying to figure it all out, Hil.  I was afraid you’d see me differently, and I honestly couldn’t bear it, no matter how happy I am with Thranduil.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t think of you differently, you foolish man!” Hilda shook her head in exasperation.  “You went from Bargeman to King, and Percy and I don’t think of you any differently did we?”

Bard shook his head sheepishly.  “No, you didn’t.”

“And we don’t treat you any differently, except in public, and even then, Galion has to jab me in the ribs to make sure I use your title.  I understand what you say about dealing with things, and needing some time, but I don’t care if you turn purple and start hanging off the chandeliers, love.  You’re our Bard, and you always will be.”

Thranduil took Bard’s hand.  “I am very sorry if you feel slighted, Hilda, but please believe us; it was never intended as a lack of trust.  We were protecting you from the burdens that come with the knowledge of something like this.  If it became known, it could affect the people's trust in Bard, and we cannot let that happen.  We especially wish to keep it from the children, before they’re old enough to understand.”

Bard smiled at her.  "So...  You're not mad?"

She rolled her eyes, and shook her head.  “I hope you've learned your lesson.  Next time you’ll think twice, before you kill a Dragon, become a King, and marry an Elf, won’t you?”

Bard laughed, “Yep.  Live and learn, yeah?”

The woman sat back and crossed her legs.  “Can I ask why you chose to be like Thranduil?”

He nodded, and told her, “Of course you can. I did it for Thranduil and the Northern Kingdoms.  Do you remember Percy telling you about the Necromancer in Dol Guldur?  He told you who it was, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did.  And now he’s gone, and good riddance.  He also told me there’d be another war, but I don’t think about it much.  There’s too much to worry about now, and we’ll all be long gone before then.”

The Elvenking said, “You are right, in that your concerns should be more immediate, but if I chose to become Mortal, my people would be leaderless in this upcoming war, and I cannot abandon them, not when so much is at stake.”

“And I have an opportunity to help Dale, if I can, Hil.” Bard added.  “I won’t abandon my people, either; not if I can do anything to save them.  I’m willing to pay the price, to benefit my family and my people.  Do you understand?”

Hilda nodded.  “I suppose I’d do the same thing.  Does Percy know?  Because I don’t keep secrets from him.”

Bard shook his head.  “No, but I promise I’ll tell him as soon as possible.  It’ll have to wait until we are face-to-face, though.  Nothing about this can be in writing.” 

“That’s smart.” Hilda said.  “Why do you say, ‘pay the price?’”

Bard told her grimly.  “Because there _is_ a price, Hil, although it doesn’t seem like it now…  I won’t die, as I said, but I also won’t be seeing any of you in the afterlife, when you leave Middle Earth.  I won’t see Mattie, my parents, or you all, when you pass on.  Please understand; I chose this freely, and know it’s the destiny I’m meant to follow, but” His voice became rough, “I will watch you all grow old and die, and you’ll all leave me.”

“But you will never be alone, _Meleth nîn._   Not now, nor in the grief which is to come.” Thranduil said softly.  “We will get through it together, and cherish our memories.”

Hilda smiled at the two of them.  “You did good, marrying this boy, Bard.  If and when that day comes, I’ll be sure and tell Mattie all about it.”

“I already have, Hilda. Mattie wants this for me, too.” Bard said.

Hilda leaned forward.  “What in blazes are you saying?”

Bard took a deep breath, and told her (and Thranduil, who had never heard the details), of all that happened, when Mattie appeared to him.  He told them everything she said, and how he felt her hand on his heart, her kiss on his lips, and even the push she gave him, when she said, “ _Now, be off with you, my handsome man, and bring the world home for supper!_ ” 

Bard’s eyes filled with tears, and told Thranduil.  “She said that to me every morning, when I would go off and work the fishing nets. She wanted me to be with you; she wanted me to have this.  But… it’s more than that, love.” He swallowed,  “She wanted me to have a chance to say goodbye.”

At those words, Hilda grabbed her handkerchief and began to cry. 

 

When they re-entered Thranduil’s chambers, they all had breakfast, then the Kings went to sit with Tilda, while Hilda, Galion and the children set to work, cleaning both the apartments from top to bottom, and making arrangements to bathe Esta.  They seemed glad to have something to do besides wait and worry. 

After their midday meal, Thranduil took the children out into his private gardens for some fresh air and exercise, before they sat down with Galion to continue with their lessons for the day.

Thranduil smiled down at their daughter, as she slept.  “I am very sorry, _Meleth nîn,”_ he whispered, “but there are things I must do in my office, although I would rather be here.  I should only be a few hours.”

“That’s fine, love.  You know where I’ll be.”

They kissed softly, and the two Kings went their separate ways, for now. 

Tilda was just waking up, when Bard and Hilda walked into her room.  He sat down on her bed, and stroked her hair back.  “Hey Beanie,” he said softly. 

“Da?” She looked confused.

“Yes love, it’s Da.” he smiled down at her. “I saw you last night, do you remember?”

She shook her head, then said. “I got sick.”

“You sure did, love.  That’s why I wanted to come and see you.”

Tilda looked at her Auntie Hil, and pointed to her mask.

“Oh, don’t you worry, Beanie,” she said.  “Auntie Hil has a little cold, and I don’t want to give it to you.”  Her eyes smiled above the mask.  “It looks funny, doesn’t it?”

Tilda nodded her head. She pointed to their gowns, then wrinkled her nose, and frowned.

Bard and Hilda laughed.  “I know, sorry.” Bard said, and Daeron looked confused.

“She detests light blue,” Hilda explained.  “Always has, since she was really little.”

The Healer smiled and shrugged.  “I am very sorry about that, Tilda.  They only come in this color, I am afraid.  We wear them, to protect you from illness, until you are stronger.”

She made a face, but didn’t say anything. 

Bard laughed.  “Tell you what, we’ll have the Tailor’s Guild make up some more, how about that?  We’re going to need them, anyway.  And I’ll bet I know what color you’d like.”

The little girl didn’t say anything, but her face showed a struggle to come up with the right word.  Then she shook her head.

Bard tried his best not to show his nervousness.  “Want me to tell you some colors, and you can nod your head?”

“Uh huh.” She nodded.

“So, how about green?  No?  Purple?  Oh, I know, red!” Then he grinned at her.  “Or, maybe…pink?”

“Pink.” She said, smiling a little.

“Very good, darling; that’s what we’ll do.  Would you like us to wear different colors, or all pink?”

“Pink.”

Tilda looked around on her bed, but didn’t seem to quite know what she was looking for.

Daeron leaned forward, and said, “Charlotte and Daisy told us they wanted to help you get well, so they are both having good baths.  They promise to come right back, as soon as they are nice and clean.”

Before she got agitated, Hilda soothed her, “But you have something better to hold, while you wait for them, don’t you love?  You’re Da came all the way here so you can hug him, as much as you want.  Can you be a big girl for me?”

Tilda looked up at Bard, but didn’t say anything.

“Do you need to use the necessary, darling?”

“Uh huh.”

Hilda told Bard and Daeron.  “We’ve scrubbed down Thranduil’s, so it will be all right; and I’ll make sure to do it again, as soon as we’re done here.  See if you can get someone to change her bedding, if you would.”

“Of course, My Lady.”

Daeron nodded his approval, so Bard picked her up, and with Hilda’s help, got things done.  Then Auntie Hil gave her a sponge bath and changed her nightie, and Bard held her in his lap, so they could change her sheets.  After she was settled back in bed, she leaned her head against his chest, as they spooned some broth into her, and gave her the medicinal tea.

“You must drink everything you can, Lady Tilda, so we can get you better.”  Daeron gave her an encouraging smile.  Pointing to the pitcher of fresh water.  “Every time you wake, we need you to drink water, too, as much as you can.”

She nodded, her eyes getting heavy again.

“Go back to sleep, Little Bean,” Bard said, kissing her hair.  “Da’s here, and I’ll look after you.”

Soon, father and daughter were both napping, under the watchful eye of her Guard/Healer and her beloved Auntie.

 

***************

 

As Bard and Tilda slept on the bed, and Hilda left to take care of some things, Daeron looked through his medical book.  Tilda’s color was better, and he knew she’d be weak for a long time.  With every passing hour, the chances of her recovery increased, much to his relief.

He’d been desperate to save her; he was as frightened as everyone else was.  When she was convulsing, it was especially frightening, because his King became frozen with hysteria.  He’d seen the reaction years ago, in Dale, and was stunned when he saw another Healer slap the man, to snap him back to awareness.  It was an effective tactic, but it was still shocking to watch.

When he applied to same treatment to Thranduil, Daeron knew he could face serious consequences for raising a hand to his King, but in that instance, it was either that, or Tilda was dead.  He needed Thranduil’s immense power as a Sindar to save the child’s life.  Thranduil in addition to his other gifts from the Valar, had healing powers, as a King. 

There is an ancient saying, which many now think of as legend or myth, but Elves know it to be truth: _“The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.”_ It was very likely that the King of Dale didn’t know this, and when he and Thranduil worked together to heal Rhian’s ribs the day after Darryn was born, he thought it was entirely due to his bond with Thranduil.  

  

There was a stirring on the bed, and Daeron quickly looked up.  Tilda was just shifting a little, then she smacked her lips a couple of times, before settling down, again.  Bard’s mouth hung slightly open, in his half-sitting position, and when his little girl moved, he instinctively adjusted to keep her comfortable, and stroked her hair a few times to soothe her, before he went back to sleep, too. 

He was so much like Girion!  Bard was taller, and had broader shoulders, but he had the same mannerisms, nearly the same speaking voice, and definitely the same laugh.  Girion had been a stern, but fair King, but was tender and loving with his family.  Bard’s nature was more light-hearted, despite all his earlier hardships, but he possessed that same steely determination and courage needed to rule a country.   

Years ago, when Daeron was sent to Dale, to serve in Girion’s Healing Hall, he had grown to love the place.  It quickly felt like home.  The work was varied, rewarding, and he had grown to admire and care about the people he met.  He found a true calling in Dale that centered him, and gave him a sense of purpose like never before.

Then a young, pregnant woman had become his patient.  Daeron didn’t have feelings for the mother besides compassion, but, for some reason, he'd become very attached to the child inside of her.  The spirit of the tiny little girl touched him deeply, and when she and her mother were killed by the abusive husband, Daeron was heartbroken, and took it very badly. Girion was sent for, to try to help his friend, but the incident shook Daeron to his core.

Girion was concerned for Daeron’s despair, and contacted Thranduil, who brought him back to the Palace.  Perhaps a change of scenery, and a long rest could help.  Daeron stayed with his family, and spent time with Turamarth, his cousin, and together, they helped him to get past it, but it took a long time, before he was ready to resume his work.

When Dale was destroyed a three years later, he did not go.  Thranduil ordered him to stay, while others went to administer aid and supplies.  Daeron felt relieved, though he hated to admit it.  The thought of seeing that beautiful place in ruins sickened him, and he knew most of his friends, including King Girion’s family were dead.  He was glad to hear that the grandson, the one Daeron himself had delivered, was among the few survivors.

Daeron had no contact from anyone from the race of Men, until after Smaug was killed, and he went with the Army to the ruins of Dale.  He had felt anxiety at the idea of treating the humans, again, but Thranduil wisely gave him no choice, and sent him to the Healing Tents.  Once he arrived there, and saw all those who suffered, his trepidation left him, and he instantly dove into the work.  With each success, his confidence grew, and he found he had lost none of his knowledge or ability, and soon the fear of failure was left far behind.

On the third day after the Elves came to Dale, Daeron was walking from the camp to the Healing Tents and saw a young, pregnant girl struggling to carry water.  She'd been hurt, and badly.  He assumed it was due to the destruction from the Dragon, but when he reached out to take the buckets from her, she shrank from him, and he saw the bruises.  When he took her forearm to get a closer look, she jumped and gasped, as if he had stabbed her, and he _knew_ what had happened to her.  Perhaps it was the _fëa_ of the child that told him, or perhaps it was her own.  Or it could have been memories from the time that woman and the girl-child were murdered.  He didn’t know, and there was little time, in those days, to contemplate much of anything.

All Daeron knew was, when he touched her arm that day, he was startled, and his own _fëa_ reacted to her in a way he still didn’t entirely understand.  Regardless, he was determined that history wouldn’t repeat itself.

He gained her confidence, to make sure she would get the proper medical treatment.  He took her to see Hannah, the midwife to check the baby.  He could easily have done all that himself, but Rhian was uncomfortable around people, and most men terrified her; so it was better that Hannah looked after her, with his help.  Daeron helped Rhian endure Hannah’s examinations, with a calming spell.  Sometimes, she would allow him to hold her hand, during this, or place his hand on her brow, as he spoke the Quenyan words to soothe her.  When he did, he heard the _fëa_  of the little boy, and felt his trust.  He also spoke to Rhian’s _fëa,_ offering comfort and strength, and promised to protect her.

And now, he had a namesake: little Darryn!  The first time he held the boy in his arms, Daeron thought of that unborn baby girl he failed to save, and he sent up a prayer to Eru Ilúvitar to look after her, wherever she was.

Over the years, his thoughts occasionally turned to that little girl, who’d never had a chance at life, and he prayed for her forgiveness, for failing to protect her. He prayed for her to somehow know that he’d used his grief at her loss to make him a better soldier, a better Healer, and a better Elf.  He also prayed to Eru and the Valar for her mother, that she would be at peace.

Now, as Daeron sat at Tilda’s bedside, his thoughts turned to another matter. 

He was beginning to realize that Rhian had become more than a professional concern; she and her child were more than a chance to make up for a previous mistake.  The Guard had begun to genuinely care about Rhian, and found himself thinking of her frequently, and in ways he never expected. 

The last time he visited their apartment, he picked up little Darryn, and the baby smiled up at him.  He was thrilled, and his heart burst with pride and happiness.  Then, he looked over at Rhian, who was sitting on the couch, with her head lowered over some sewing.  She looked up at him, and when she met his eyes and smiled, his heart _flipped over._

He was confused, and a little frightened.  He didn’t know what to do about it, because the last thing in the world he wanted, was to cause her harm.  Daeron knew the time was coming soon, for him to talk to his King. 

But all that would have to wait.  In addition to his normal duties, he had a patient that will need his time and attention for several months.  He was a soldier, and a Healer, and his focus needed remain with the Royal Family, especially the youngest Princess. 

Daeron shook his head slightly, and wrestled the image of Rhian’s face into the back of his mind, and concentrated on his present duty, for now. 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Losta-luith_ – Sleeping spell

 _Arin Mára, Esta_ – Good morning, Esta. (Quenya)

 _Gwennig nestad;_ _de vilui, O Elbereth -_   My little maid is healing; thank you, O Queen of Stars

 _Aur vaer, Thranduil_ – Good morning, Thranduil.

 _Adar-nauth_ – Father of the heart

  _Rista-Goeol_ - (lit. “The Terrible Severing”) the pain an Elf bond-mate is killed when a bond-mate is killed.  If the couple were married, it is agony as part of their shared fëa, as the spouse heeds the Call of Mandos.  That is an agonizing process that only the strongest Elves can survive.

 

 **NOTES** :

 _“The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.”_ – Return of the King:  http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/The_Houses_of_Healing

Catarrh – older term for upper respiratory infection.

Lung Fever – older term for pneumonia

Brain Fever – older term for meningitis

All the terms for ancient medicine was taken off of this site:

<http://www.thornber.net/medicine/html/medgloss.html>

I am by no means any kind of medical expert on this, but I should tell you that Tilda became sick with Middle Earth’s version of Brain Fever; something resembling what we call H. Influenzae Meningitis.  Fortunately, Middle Earth has Elves to help with such things.  I only wish the residents of our world could be so lucky…

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Thranduil has a visit with his friend, Feren, he gets a message from a very unexpected source, which turns out to be very useful.
> 
> Tilda is still stable, and is slightly improved, so Auntie Hil and Galion spend some time with her...
> 
> ...and that means that Bard and Thranduil can get some much-needed alone time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Leemitage: Yes. The "Elf Thing" is back... :-D

 

 

 

 

**Early afternoon, 9 th of February, 2942, T.A.; The Woodland Realm**

 

While Bard napped with Tilda in his arms, and the children were kept busy with their lessons and such, Thranduil went into his study, and sat for a few minutes with his eyes closed.  Despite his sleep last night, he was still drained.  He really didn’t want to be here, but couldn’t neglect his duties as King.  Dale still needed the supplies to arrive on time, there were reports and requests that couldn’t be put off. 

He took a few moments, and enjoyed the solitude, then heaved a sigh, and got to work. 

News of Tilda’s illness spread quickly throughout the Palace, and messages were sent to him of good wishes and offers of prayer.  Some of his Council members sent messages offering to take care of matters for him in other parts of the Palace, while he attended their sick child, which he gratefully accepted.  The Council also offered to cancel tomorrow’s meeting, which he also agreed to.

There were also updates as to the rest of Dale’s population.  Bronwyn had indeed cancelled school.  He read details of the flurry of activity to quarantine the families to their quarters, and was pleased at their cooperation. 

All the mothers were to observe their children carefully, and were told to alerting the Healers, if needed, who were to make house calls.   Feren made himself useful during his visit, and had ordered several of his men from the barracks to come and assist; they were stationed throughout the Visitor’s wing, ready to fetch a Healer to examine any child showing symptoms, and they assisted in distributing meals to their homes. 

Thranduil smiled when he read his friend’s note, there was a post script that stated his men were to help keep the children busy, to aid their mother’s frazzled nerves.  As long as they observed the terms of the quarantine, and washed and changed, the mothers were grateful.

Thranduil had sent a message to Indis and Rhian to explain about Tilda’s illness. Darryn, as a new infant, was especially vulnerable, so no one from the Royal Household would be visiting for a week, to ensure of his safety.

Thranduil was still buried in his work, when a guard knocked on his office door, and saluted.  “My Lord, I have a message from Erebor.”

“Erebor?” Thranduil asked the Guard.

“It came by…Raven, My Lord. _”_ The Guard looked just as surprised as Thranduil felt.

Thranduil blinked.  “Really?” He held out his hand.  He was worried; this could be catastrophic news, on top of everything else they were trying to cope with here…

He unfolded the small piece of paper.  It was much thinner than he normally used, and bore no seal.  In Dáin’s distinctive writing, he read:

 

> _Kings T & B--Offering service of Ravens for messages regarding Princess Tilda.  Much quicker than horse.  Reply with news - bird is waiting, so are we!  All is well here. Ready to assist Percy, if need arises--Dáin_

Thranduil looked up at the Guard.  “Is the bird still here?”

“Yes, My Lord.  It will not leave; it seems to indicate it we should send a response.”

“’Indicate?’”

“It... holds out one leg and squawks.  Loudly,” the Elf winced.

“Ah.”  Thranduil gave him a wry smile. “Lord Percy and King Dáin must be frantic for news.”

Thranduil got up, and quickly dug around in his credenza in for the paper he kept handy for tracing maps and such, and quickly penned a reply.

 

> _Dáin— Tilda suffered Lung & Brain Fever. Out of danger-first signs good, but must observe. Other children healthy – Precautions taken to prevent spread. Look for full report via messenger. Thank you for Raven—Thranduil & Bard_

The Elvenking used the first message as an example to fold the paper properly, and gave it to the Guard.

Once the messenger was gone, Thranduil sat down and wrote the details of all that had occurred, plus the precautions taken to protect the other children.  Once signed and sealed, he sent for the same messenger that had come earlier. 

“I’m afraid the letter box is still in Dale, but give this to Lord Percy as soon as you get there.  Tell him to share this with King Dáin as well.  Also, please bring the box back with you, when you come.  I do not know when King Bard can return, but we can exchange correspondence as usual with Dale, and we will be using Erebor’s Ravens for updates.”

The messenger left again, as Feren stopped in.

“Hello, _Mellon nîn_ _.”_ The Commander smiled, but had a concerned look on his face.

Thranduil got up around his desk, and they embraced, not as King and Commander, but as life-long friends. “I am so glad you are here.” He said. "Thank you for sending extra troops to Dale."

“No thanks are needed, Thranduil.  They volunteered.  How is Lady Tilda?”

Thranduil released his embrace, and invited him to sit.  “She…  came close to death, but she sleeps now, and we are encouraged.  When she is awake, she does not speak much, but she knows us, and where she is.”  He swallowed.  “For now, it is enough.”

“My family keeps you in our thoughts, _Mellon nîn_.  Glélindë is busy with the Guild, making more clean robes for you to wear in her sick room, and she has personally cleaned her toys.  She’s even making a little surprise for your Tilda.”

The Elvenking smiled.  “That is kind of her.  Please extend our thanks.”

“I think I should leave with the wagons tomorrow, to help Percy, so King Bard can stay as long as he is needed.”

“No.  You will stay and visit with your family, and leave in four days’ time, as scheduled.  I have just received a message from King Dáin, and he and his army are at Dale’s disposal.  Do not forget, Tauriel is also at Percy’s side, and your Lieutenant is more than capable to command in your stead, and your troops are on their way.  I thank you for your offer, but I think it will be fine.” 

He changed the subject.  “Now, tell me about your girls, Feren,” he smiled.  “I need to think of happy things.  How is your new family?”

A grin spread across the Commander’s face.  “My family is noisy, active, messy, and completely wonderful.” He laughed, and shook his head. “Our home is a bit crowded now, with the girls and Gruffudd, but my wife is happy, and our children are very attached to her, even in the short time they have been with her.”

“I would imagine they were happy to see their _Ada,_ _Mellon.”_

“Oh, yes,” Feren’s smile got even wider.  “I have a child in my lap every time I sit down.  We have separate beds for them, but Glélindë told me they always end up sleeping together, or with her.”

“I imagine they were used to doing so, in the camp with the other orphans.”

“Very likely,” Feren answered. “It makes them feel secure, so my wife has no problem with it.  I, on the other hand, am not quite used to waking up with small, squirmy children.”

“I have the same dilemma, but I do not complain.  Well, I do not complain _now.”_   Thranduil, leaned forward conspiratorially.  “I learned the hard way, the value of a strategically placed pillow or two.  My _Tithen Pen_ likes to, as Bard puts it, ‘run a race in her sleep,’ and I have been the ill-fated victim of one of her kicks.”

“Oh, no!” The Commander laughed. “What did you do?”

“What could I do?  I am glad she did not wake, or she would have learned that her _Ada_ has just as much of a foul mouth as her Da.”

After they both had a good laugh, Thranduil said.  “It feels almost strange to laugh, after everything.”  Then he said, “Feren, when I saw our Tilda lying on her back, so still, I would have given anything, to have her thrash around and kick her covers off, again.”

The Commander looked at him with compassion and concern.  “Can you tell me what exactly happened?”

Thranduil shared with his childhood friend the horrors of that night and all of yesterday.  He shed a tear or two, as Feren listened to him express his sorrow and the fears he still has for his _Tithen Pen._

Feren’s face reflected his distress. “But you say, so far, the signs are good?” 

“I…have to remain hopeful.” Thranduil sighed.  “Have your daughters been sick at all?”

“Dafina has a bit of a cold, and her ear was bothering her a little, so we had it taken care of.  We are implementing the routine Daeron recommended, and I plan to wash and change before I go near the girls, today.  They will be safe.”

“Tilda’s illness is very rare, and all these precautions may be unnecessary, but I will spare no effort if only to prevent one child from this.” The Elvenking said, ruefully.  Then he said, “This is part of raising humans, is it not?”

“But it is an adventure worth pursuing, do you not think?”  Then Feren asked him, quietly.  “Thranduil, how do you fare with this?  You always know I’ll support you, if you need me.”

Thranduil knew what he was asking.  “At the worst of it, when I was sure Tilda was dying, it was…”  He struggled for words.  “Someday, Bard and I will say farewell to her; to all of them.  I had told myself that, when the time came, we would be ready.  But no one is ever ready to lose someone we love.”

Feren looked at Thranduil thoughtfully.  “We can prepare ourselves, but will that really help us, when the time comes?”

“I do not think so.”  The Elvenking sighed.  “I thought my father’s and Mírelen’s death hurt so badly because it was so unexpected.”  He rubbed his forehead.  “Now, I know it is more than that.”

Feren said, “King Bard spoke to me of the girls’ mortality, and I thought a great deal about what he said.  If Glélindë and I allowed that to stop us, we would have an eternity to regret it.  We would be failing them and ourselves, if we turned away from this kind of love.”

Thranduil nodded in understanding.  “But it is still a very difficult adjustment.”

Feren regarded his face.  “Do what you need to do keep strong for yourself, so you can be strong for them.  You always have Galion and me to support you.  Thranduil, one of the reasons I’m here was to make sure you were not withdrawing.  I will not let you hurt yourself like that again.”

“I would expect nothing less, as I would do the same for you.”  Thranduil got up and clasped forearms with Feren.  “Now, please get back and enjoy your time with your family, as I am about to.  Send them my best.  When all is well again, tell your wife to bring the girls to visit.  Tilda would enjoy it.”

 

**************

 

**City of Dale, Mid-day, 9 th of February, 2942, T.A.**

 

In King Bard’s study, Percy, and Tauriel were nervously pacing the floor, and Old Ben, Alun and King Dáin were sitting, and waiting, along with Ermon, the Chief Healer.  There was a large pitcher of ale, and several mugs, which were put to good use, and with a tray of food, that remained untouched.

All were waiting to hear news about Princess Tilda.  All was silent in the Great Hall, as fathers wondered and worried about their own children, who were far away.

“Where is it that bird?  It’s been hours!” Percy wondered, and swore under his breath, not for the first time.  “If she…  Oh, Valar… Maybe it’s bad news, and they would never send that with a bird; they would send someone to tell us in person, wouldn’t they?  Maybe the bird won’t come back.”

King Dáin did his best to reassure the Steward of Dale.  “Dunna fash yerself; the corbie’ll get here.  I dinna ken when exactly, but either way, Bard’ll tell us what’s up wit’ the lass.  Sit down, lad,” he told Percy.  “Worryin’ and pacin’ won’t get ye anywheres, ‘cept get ye frazzled.”

“Lord Percy,” the Chief Healer said, “Princess Tilda has the advantage of Elven medicine.  Rest assured that I have full confidence in my staff there and Lieutenant Daeron is highly trained in diseases of the race of Men.  Tilda is in the best place she could possibly be, and King Thranduil will spare no effort.”

“He’s right, Pers,” Old Ben urged.  “Sit, and try to eat.”

He and Tauriel sat, but all they could manage to do was break the bread on their plates in little pieces. 

King Dáin patted Tauriel’s hand reassuringly.  “There, now, lass.  ‘Twon’t be long, now.” 

The Elf covered her eyes, and sighed.  All around the table, everyone sat in sober silence.

Suddenly Tauriel lifted her head, and her keen Elven ears heard something. “The horns! The sentry is shouting something.”

They all got up and tore into the Great Hall, just in time for the big doors to open.  The large, black bird swooped in and landed on a table near King Dáin, cawed loudly, then extended its leg to the King Under the Mountain.

Dáin took the message, unfolded it and read it aloud for everyone to hear, and a loud cheer of relief went up all over the building.  Tauriel and Percy embraced with enormous relief.  He wiped his eyes and said, "Thanks to Ulmo and all the Valar...  Our baby's going to be all right."

Alun put his arm around Old Ben to steady him, as he wiped his eyes, while King Dáin harrumphed and cleared his throat for several minutes.

Every father in the Great Hall heaved a sigh of relief that their own children hadn't been affected, and were genuinely glad for their new King.

And _everybody_ drank several rounds of ale, before they got back to work.

 

***************

 

After Feren left his office, Thranduil quickly finished up, then stepped across the Hall, to his rooms, where everyone was waiting.  The children were happy to see him, and Sigrid came and hugged him tight.  He sat down with them, so they could tell him about their day.  Then he told them Feren had stopped by, and surprise visit from the Raven!  He was sure Dale had gotten the good news by now, and the details would probably arrive in an hour or so. 

The children were intrigued, to hear about the bird as was Galion. 

“Now we can tell them every day how Tilda is!  And Da won’t have to worry so much about Dale, won’t he?”

“That is true, Sigrid.  I have asked King Dáin in my letter if he would consider continuing with messages this way.”

“That was nice of him.  Uncle Percy must be going crazy.” Bain observed. 

“I know I would be.” Sigrid agreed.  “It was hard enough to be here, but can you imagine what that’s like?”

“I am glad we have a way to help them,” Thranduil said. “Did Esta get her bath?”

Then they told him about giving Esta a bath, and how they ended up just as soaked as she was.  As he listened and laughed, he felt affection flooding his heart.

Feren and Galion were right; it’s always a risk allowing such love into his life, and he’d never be ready to lose them, but he wanted each moment like this to imbed itself into his memory, to relive and take with him wherever he went.

As he sat and watched them talk with him, and each other, he made a decision.

 Once his book for Legolas was done, he would begin another; this one would chronicle the family he has now, with pictures of these young faces, and anecdotes of their daily life, as they grew up and lived their own lives.  He wanted to record this, to have a way to keep these lovely people alive and with them forever.

There would come a day, when he will be forced to say farewell to every child here, but he vowed to immerse himself in every moment with them.  And, when the time came to leave Middle Earth forever, he and Bard could sit in the evenings, and read these stories, and laugh, perhaps cry a little, and nurture the parts of their hearts where they would always reside.

He looked over at Galion, and remembered his words:  It was times like these that reminded them how much they all loved each other.

“Where is your Da?” he asked the children.  “Is he still in with Tilda?”

“No.  He’s in bed.  Auntie Hil went in there a couple of hours ago, and ordered him to get some real sleep.  She’s in with Tilda now.”

“I think she is right, your Da needs sleep.  How do you all feel?  Are you all right?”

Rhys answered.  “We’re good; honest.”  Sigrid and Bain nodded in agreement. 

There was a knock at the door, and a lovely _elleth_ entered.  “Good afternoon, My Lord,” she curtsied.  I bring you the items that were washed for Lady Tilda, and wish to take the other laundry.”  She handed him a bundle, wrapped in a cloth. 

“I thank you.  Galion, would you please bring the basket out for her?”

“Of course, My Lord.  Just a moment.”  Galion quietly entered the bedchamber, so as not to wake up Bard, and brought the basket to her.  After another polite curtsy, she left.

“I would like visit with your father and Tilda, until it is dinnertime.” He got up, then turned back toward them. 

“Children,” he said, “I am immensely proud of all of you.  You have been helpful, thoughtful, and supportive of each other, considering how little attention you have had from me or your Da.  I do not know what will be involved with looking after Tilda, and this may take a great deal of our time and attention.  Please, never think for a moment, we do not care about you any less.”

The children looked at each other, then Sigrid said, “Right now, Tilda needs you a lot more than we do.”  Sigrid said.

“Don’t worry, Ada, we know you haven’t forgotten about us!” Bain added, with Rhys nodding in agreement.

“Thank you.”  He looked at Rhys, “King Bard and I appreciate your support and help, as well.  I am very glad to have you with us.”

The boy smiled.  “Thank you, My Lord.  I want to help.”

“And you are.  Bain needs you now, and so does Sigrid, so do not doubt your presence here.  I am your guardian, yes, but for now, you are part of my family.”

 Thranduil looked at the three children. “What are your plans this evening?”

“Rhys and me are going to fletch some arrows over at the table.” Bain said.  Rúvyn brought some for us to work on.”

“Rhys and _I,”_ Thranduil corrected with a smile.  “And you, Sigrid?” 

“Tauriel said Old Ben needed some socks, so I need to finish those.”

“Very good. I will talk to you later, yes?”  He got up, and went into his bedchamber, to find Bard on his stomach, fast asleep, fully clothed.  He looked tired, but still, a wonderful sight.  Although he had come for a serious reason, his heart jumped in his chest at having his husband and bond-mate so near.  Valar, the man was _so beautiful._  

Thrandiul gently sat on the bed, and lifted a small lock of hair from his face.  He watched Bard sleep for a few minutes, then placed a whisper of a kiss on his cheek before going to wash, gown up and see his _Tithen Pen,_ bringing the wrapped bundle with him.

He stepped in, and saw Daeron checking Tilda’s heart, and her head for fever, again. 

Hilda looked up, her eyes smiling above her mask.  “So far, so good.  Did you see Bard?”

He nodded, smiling.  “Thank you for forcing him to get some rest.”

“He only had a couple of hours last night, and he’s been here all day.  It’ll do him good.”

“How do you fare, My Lady?” he smiled fondly down at her. 

“I’m…”  Even though he couldn’t see most of her face, her eyes spoke volumes, and words were no longer needed. 

He patted her shoulder.  “What is it your Percy says?  ‘One foot in front of the other,’ yes?  I am now sending you to your rooms to rest, as well.  You, _Brennil Vuin,_ must not exhaust yourself, either.  Go now, and sleep.”

Hilda nodded, then went out.  Esta wagged her tail and tilted her head back and forth. 

“Good afternoon, Esta.  How is our patient?”

The dog smiled at him, and wagged her tail rapidly. 

“Well, that is good news.  Thank you very much.”

Esta stretched out, yawned, and left to be taken out.

Thranduil and Daeron moved to the doorway and had a whispered conversation. 

“We have many good wishes from others in the Palace, and Erebor as well.  A Raven brought them.”

“A Raven?” The Guard was surprised.

“I would not be shocked, _Mellon nîn._   King Dáin has a soft spot for our little Princess.  But it does expedite urgent messages.”  Thranduil turned back to gaze at Tilda.  “How was her day?”

“She woke up a couple of times, and took some more liquids, so that is encouraging.  Her heartbeat is steady, and no fever.  This afternoon, I started her with some breathing exercises to help her lungs.”

“How so?”

“There is most likely scarring, so we need to help her, by making her take very deep breaths, then blow out as hard and as long as she can.  This also might cause her to cough, which is good, because it will get rid of anything left.

The Elvenking nodded.  “How will the scarring affect her?”

“That cannot be known now, but she will be sensitive to cold air for a long time, and must have a scarf over her mouth.  This could affect her for well over a year, My Lord.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows.  “A year is a very long time for a little girl to be so delicate.” He sighed.

“It does not stop there, My Lord. Things like this could also weaken the valves in her heart.  For now, it is steady and stable, but we must monitor her closely throughout her life.  If we find damage, we must repair it, or it could shorten her lifespan.”

He gasped, as he let those words register.  “Can anything be done now?”

“Like other things, it may not be apparent for a while.  But we shall be watchful, My Lord.  It is to our favor that Tilda is so young.  Her body is still growing, and could overcome much that hinders her, at this point.  If her brain has been affected, it will be easier for her to compensate.  We can help her brain to learn new ways of doing things.  I cannot say this is true for every child that has been damaged, but our initial signs from Tilda are encouraging.”

Thranduil sucked in a breath, and closed her eyes.  “When King Bard awakens, please make sure you tell him all of this.  And thank you for not sparing any details.  We must know everything.”

Daeron looked at his King thoughtfully, and nodded.

Just then, there was a stirring from the bed.  Tilda was awake again, so he went to sit on her bed.  

“Hello, _Tithen Pen.”_ He smiled at her.  “I am glad to see you awake.”

 _“Ada.”_ She said.

“Yes, it is _Ada._   I have two people who are anxious to see you.”  He unwrapped the bundle, and presented two clean stuffed toys.   “They have taken their baths, and were anxious to get back to you.” he held up Charlotte.

She smiled. “Doll.”

“You are very smart.  Now, who is this?”

Tilda looked at it and her mouth was moving.  “Flower?”

“You are not entirely wrong, Tilda.  His name is a flower you like.”

She considered this. “D… “

“You are very close.  The flower has a yellow center, with many white petals, and it begins with a ‘D.’  You like them very much, so you wanted to give your friend a happy name.”

“I did?”

“Oh, yes, _Tithen_ _Pen_.  You do not like the names I give to my horses or my Elk, because they are scary, warrior names.”

Tilda perked up.  “Elk.” And pointed to it.

“You are very smart.  And his name begins with ‘D.”  Let us think of flowers that start with that letter…”

Just then, Esta came back in, so Daeron quickly cleaned her paws, and wiped down her fur, so she could get back on the bed.  Esta yipped a little and nuzzled her head under Tilda’s right hand.

As Tilda began to stroke her head, she looked back at the toy Elk.  “D…  Daisy!”

“Yes, his name is Daisy!  Very good!”  Thranduil reached over and kissed her cheek.

He handed both toys to her, and watched her as she gazed down upon them.  “Doll,” she said, pointing to Charlotte.  “Charlotte!”

“That is right.  What is Daisy, is he a horse?”

She shook her head.  “He’s a Elk.”

Daeron moved closer.  “Hello Tilda.” He held up one finger and asked, “Can you look at my finger, please?  Do not move your head, just follow it with your eyes, if you would.”  He slowly moved his finger up and down, back and forth, and she was able to perform the task. 

“You are a very good girl.” He took her hands, “Can you squeeze my hands?  Good…  Now, try squeezing them as hard as you can.” She did try, but it was plain to see that her grip was very weak.  “Excellent.” He turned her hands face up, then put his on top. “How about if try to push my hands up?  Very good.” He flipped their hands over.  “Try to push them down now, as hard as you can.” And she did.

In Sindarin, Daeron told Thranduil, _“Her eyes are focusing very well, and her speech is not slurred, and that is an excellent sign, but her hands have lost much of their strength.  Her left hand is weaker than her right.”_

Thranduil nodded to him, then moved to put his arm around Tilda. “I am so proud of you, _Tithen Pen.”_ He kissed her hair, as Daeron handed him a cup of water.  “Now, let us drink our water.  It is good for you.”

She nodded, then loosely put her hands over his on the cup, as she drank. 

“You are thirsty, Tilda, are you not?”  She nodded to Daeron’s question.  “Do you hurt, anywhere?”

She thought for a moment. Then nodded yes. 

“Where do you hurt?  Can you take your finger and point to it?” 

They waited as she pointed to her arms, legs and her stomach, and back.  Daeron and Thranduil’s eyes met, in alarm, then quickly conversed in Sindarin to discern what was wrong. 

“Could her muscles be sore?  Not just from her seizure, but from lying so still?"

“It’s a possibility.  She is already being given Willow Bark tea, but we can massage her muscles, that should help.” He reached for the bottle of Athelas oil, and they lifted up her night gown and massaged it on her legs, then her back, arms and tummy.

“Is this better, is it not?”  He rearranged her nightie and settled her back in bed with his arms around her.

She nodded, then relaxed into him.  “Ada?”

“Yes, child?”

“I got sick?"

 “Yes, _hênig,_ you became sick, but we are happy you are getting better.”

“Da came."

“Yes, he did, _Tithen Pen.”_ He gathered her to him.  “He is taking a nap at the moment.”

Daeron stepped out to send for more tea and broth, as Thranduil held her in his lap.  He held up Charlotte and pretended the she was talking to Tilda, which made her smile.

“I had a bad cold.” She said again.

“Yes, you did.”

“Hey Little Bean, care for another visitor?” Bard stuck his head in, and Tilda’s face brightened. 

“Da’s here.” She said, with a little smile.

Bard smiled at her, and met Thranduil’s gaze and held it for a few moments, and he felt his heart jump.  As hard as all this was, it was so wonderful to have his husband so near.  

The Elvenking stroked Tilda’s hair.  “Bard, our Tilda has talked quite a bit.”

“That’s my Little Bean, always the chatterbox.” He came over to her and kissed her cheek.  “You look a little better.”

Tilda looked at him, and pointed to his light blue robe, then to Daeron’s and Thranduil’s.  “You’re the same,” she said, and frowned.

Bard laughed.  “That we are, Beanie. I know how much you hate this color, but I _love_ hearing you tell me about it.”

Thranduil asked her.  “Do you not like light blue?  I did not know this, _hênig.”_

She frowned, and looked at her Da. 

“Nobody knows why, but even when she was tiny, she hated it.”  He shook his head, and said to her, “We’re going to have new ones made, right?  I’ve asked Galion to take care of it. Can you tall Ada what color you want them to be?”

She thought for a second, as she played with Charlotte’s hair, and nodded.  “P...” She looked up at Thranduil.  “I like pink.”

“That is good to know.” Thranduil told her, as Galion came to the doorway, with the tray of tea and broth.  Bard took it from him and thanked him.

“Galion's here.” Tilda smiled.

The Chief Aide stuck his head in.  “Hello, Tilda.  I am glad to see you awake.”

She held out her arms to him, and Aide was visibly touched.  “I must wash and put a robe on, but I will be in shortly, little one.”

The little girl looked at her Da.  “Galion’s nice.”

“So, I’ve heard, love.”

“I have a… “  Tilda paused and looked down at Charlotte, but couldn’t think of the word she wanted to say.  She looked up at Bard and Thranduil, hoping they could help her, but neither one knew what she wanted. 

She struggled for a second or two, and started to get upset, so Thranduil made soothing noises and hugged her to him.

“Never mind, love.  It’s all right.  You’ve been sick, and you’re still tired out.”  Bard kissed her temple, “You’ll think of it tomorrow.”

Galion, washed and robed, so Bard stepped back to let Elf could step up to the bed, and give her a hug.  “I am happy to see you, Tilda.”

“Perhaps Galion could give you your tea and broth.  Would you like that?” Thranduil asked.  “I need to speak to your Da.”

“Uh huh.” 

So, the fathers stepped out as Uncle Galion sat down to give her dinner, such as it was, and they left the door open a crack.

 

**************

 

Thranduil pulled Bard farther into their bedroom, and into his dressing room, closing the door behind them.  In the dark, he gathered Bard into his arms and they just held each other tight.

Bard reveled in the smell and feel of his Elf, and buried his nose into Thranduil’s neck for many silent minutes. 

“Please forgive me, _Meleth nîn.”_   Thranduil’s voice trembled. “I know Tilda needs us, and so do the other children.  But… I need you... in my arms.”  Thranduil whispered.  “I need to hold you, for just a moment.”

“Oh, love, I know.  Stars, I’ve missed you.” Bard’s throat tightened as he burrowed into his husband.   This was what he needed; it was what they both needed.

Bard’s lips found Thranduil’s and as they kissed, there were tears on their faces.  As they held and caressed each other, Bard began to feel solid ground under his feet, for the first time since he arrived.  As their embrace tightened, his heart began to settle.  He no longer felt like he was constantly falling, and scrabbling for a foothold.  They were here together, now.

“Oh, yes…” he breathed.  “I love you so much, Thranduil...”

He heard Thranduil’s small whimper, as their mouths opened, and their kiss deepened.  _Valar this felt so good…_ Life flowed faster and faster through them, and between them, and their touches soothed the pain and fear in their hearts. 

Soon he felt long, smooth fingers undo his laces, and a hand gripping his cock.  Involuntarily, he groaned softly and thrust his hips forward.  Bard quickly pulled away and yanked Thranduil’s robes open and soon, both of their cocks were held together under both of their hands and they thrust against each other. 

This was not just an act of love, it was a release from the deep fear and pain they felt.  This pleasure soothed them, and steadied them for whatever came next.  This was two bond-mates, coming together again, so they could be stronger as a whole, more than they ever could be apart.  This was deep need, and this was a reminder of what loving each other meant.

Bard tried his best to stifle the noises he made into Thranduil’s shoulder, but when he began to feel his orgasm, he couldn’t stop the moans and he scrunched his eyes shut, and bit Thranduil’s shoulder, hard, to stifle his scream.  The pain mixed with pleasure sent his Elf over the edge, and he heard Thranduil gasp loudly, as the warm milky liquid left streaks on both of their hands, stomachs and chests.  Once again, Bard saw the stars and the sun, and the pure joy of being with his husband.  They continued to thrust together in the dark until at last they were spent, and panting.

Bard ran his hands through his soft, silky hair, and sighed.  “We both needed that.” He kept whispering to his husband.  “I missed you, so much.”

“I feel whole, when you are near, _Meleth nîn._   I feel stronger.”

Bard put Thranduil’s hand on his heart.  You’re in here, but I can feel more, when you when you’re nearby.

Thranduil put Bard’s hand over his own heart. “I love you”

“Thanks for dragging me in here.”

“It is terrible to say how much I want you?”  Thranduil didn’t want to let go of him, and wrapped his arms around Bard again.  “I cannot help it.” he whispered into Bard’s neck.  “I need to be with you, Meleth nîn.  I need to feel you inside of me.”

“No, love, it’s not.  I need you, too.  We’ll figure out something.”  Bard kissed him, again, long and hard.  “But for now, we need to get out there for our family.”  He stroked the Elvenking’s cheeks.

They stepped back and cleaned each other up, and put themselves back together. Then they went back out and checked the nursery, again.

Galion had finished giving Tilda her tea, which she didn’t like, and getting ready to give her some more broth.  They saw her smile at Galion, and from the look on his face, he was grateful for the opportunity to spend some time with her. 

Daeron was still there, and nodded to them.  “She is responding well, and has kept down the liquids, so I want to start her tomorrow on some soft, bland food.  It will help her get strong again.”

Bard smiled at his Little Bean. “Will you be all right with Galion, while I go visit with your sister and brother?  I’ll be back in a little while.”

She nodded, and smiled at Galion.  “He’s nice.”

Bard grinned.  “So, you’ve said in all your letters, Little Bean.  _Ada’s_ going to come to, because I think your Uncle Galion wants you all to himself for a little while.”

Galion looked to Tilda, “I know this is not your favorite couch, but you have Charlotte, and Daisy, and Esta, so perhaps you could take a nap when we are finished?”

She nodded, but then her brow furrowed.  “I need a girl.”

“Why is that, love?”

“I have to pee.” 

Ah. “I’m sorry, Beanie, but Auntie Hil is sleeping, and Sigrid isn’t allowed to come in, right now.  I’ll take you.  I used to when you were little.”

She didn’t like it, but there was nothing for it, and they got through it.  Soon she was ensconced back in bed, with her toys, and Galion was telling her a story.

Finally, the Kings made it out to the living room, and relaxed with Sigrid, Bain and Rhys.  Hilda came in after a while, and told Galion, to enjoy his visit; she’d get him his dinner.

 They spent the evening catching up around the dinner table, then relaxing on the couches, while the children had their chance to be with their Da, who had needed him just as much.

 

***************

 

After dinner, the two Kings took turns with Tilda, again.

“My Lord, Meriel is here,” Galion said to Thranduil, who was snuggling with the little girl and singing to her. 

Daeron stood up to greet the other Healer.  “She has had a good day; and I think she’ll sleep through the night.” The Guard couldn’t help himself from stretching.  “If you will excuse me, I will say good night.” 

After Daeron left to sleep in Rhys’s room, the _elleth_ smiled down at Tilda, and began to examine her.  “How are you feeling, Lady Tilda?  Your face has a little more color, I see.”

Thranduil looked down at his daughter, “Daeron said that too, did he not?”

“He is a smart Elf.” She said, as she felt the glands in Tilda’s throat, and listened to her heart.  “Can you squeeze both of my hands?  Excellent. Now, can you push them up?  Down?  Good!  Please follow my finger and keep you head still for me, if you would…” 

As she did all this, Tilda asked, “Why?”

“Oh, it is a silly game we Healers like to play,” Meriel grinned conspiratorially.

Once Tilda was done with necessities and her nighttime medicine, she was ready for a good night kiss from her fathers and Uncle Galion.  Bard stayed with her, until she fell asleep.

The others got through their baths and bed, and once his duties were done, Galion exited, taking Hilda with him.

Thranduil was alone with his husband.

“Unfortunately, we have little privacy in our room, _Meleth nîn_ ,” he whispered into Bard’s ear, as he nibbled on his earlobe.

“That won’t do at all, love.  I have no intention of being quiet.”  Bard’s hands traveled from his waist, down to his buttocks, to massage them, and rub their hips together, sending thrills all throughout the Elf.  His cock responded accordingly, and Thranduil thrust his hips against Bard, hard, as he plundered his mouth.

“Valar I’ve missed this,” Bard breathed, as he fisted his hands in Thranduil’s hair to pull his head back. 

Thranduil gasped with delight, as Bard placed soft, wet kisses all along his neck.  _“A, ma…”_ he breathed.  _“Ci velethron e-guil nîn, Bard.”_

“If I have to wait another minute to have you, I think I’ll die.”

Thranduil lightly kissed his lips, then pushed Bard away, reluctantly.  “Just a moment; wait here.”  Leaving Bard standing there, with his mouth agape, the Elvenking dashed into their bedroom and grabbed the bottle of oil from his nightstand, and a towel from his closet.

Hurrying through the living room, he grabbed Bard’s wrist.  “Come with me,” and dragged him out of their chambers, and into his study across the hall.  Slamming and locking the door behind him, he quickly threw up a silencing spell and turned back to his husband, who quickly manhandled him against the door.

“Bard…”  He grabbed his husband’s tunic and practically ripped it off of him, before he began to suckle on a nipple.  Thranduil felt Bard’s fingers in his hair and heard him gasp loudly. 

“Oh, bloody fuck, Thran…”  Bard said, panting.  “I forgot how good you feel…”

Thranduil quickly undid Bard’s laces and plunged his hands into his breeches and grabbed a hot, hard cock.  They both moaned, as Bard thrust up to meet his touches.  Thranduil moved over to the other nipple, and bit it.

“Aaah!”  His husband cried out, then Thranduil started on the fastenings holding his robe together. 

“Here, let me.” Bard removed the rest of the Elvenking’s clothing.  Once his own were gone, Bard pushed Thranduil against the closed door, slicked his fingers and knelt before the Elvenking, taking his cock into this warm, wet mouth, as he inserted a finger into Thranduil’s opening.  The Elf threw his head back and let out a long, low moan, squirming.

“Am I hurting you?” Bard hesitated. 

“No, but it has been a while, _Meleth nîn._  Please be gentle.”  Bard curled his finger up and began to play with Thranduil’s prostate, sending waves of pleasure pulsing through him.  He squirmed and moaned his delight, as Bard continued to open him, and tease him with his tongue.  _“A ma!  Pathro nin!”_

Finally, Bard stood up and wrapped Thranduil’s legs around him, and drove his cock into the Elf with one long, stroke, as the Elf let out a loud groan of pleasure.  His Bard was around him, in him, and the world disappeared completely, except for them and how it felt.

Bard moaned as he began to thrust into him, holding him up against the wall with his hands gripping his arse, “Gods I’ve missed you; I love you so much.”

“ _Law no lagor; ídhron gi mathad bân, Bard._ Please go slow. I love how you feel inside me.  I need to feel everything!  I’ve waited so long…”

Bard captured his lips in a long, slow kiss, as he moved his hips out slowly and thrust back in.

_“A, ma!  Gi melin, Bard.  Avo dharo…”_

“You feel so good, Thranduil. This was all I could think about; I thought about fucking you all the time…  I could hardly sleep, from wanting you.”

Thranduil wrapped his arms and legs tighter around Bard, and kissed him hard.  He closed his eyes and reveled in the feel of Bard’s mouth, the warm skin against his, and lavender scent of the oil.  He moaned again as Bard continued to fuck him, his thrust becoming deeper and faster.

“Look at me, Bard.  Let me see your eyes.”  Thranduil gazed into those forest-green depths and lost himself, as he worked his hand between them, and stroked himself.

 _“Aaah!  Ah, Ma, Meleth nîn!”_ He could feel the lightning bolts flow through him and knew Bard was close, too.

“I’m gonna come, love” Bard’s voice was no more than a hoarse whisper.  “Come with me.  Do it, love.  Come with me.”

It was more than they both could contain, and tears fell from their eyes, as they climaxed together, with loud cries of joy.  Bard continued to thrust into him as they worked through their orgasms, moaning and panting, until at last they stopped.  Once Bard was soft enough to pull out of Thranduil, he carried him over to the couch.  Thank the Valar, Thranduil had thrown his robe over it.  It would probably be ruined from the stains of their lovemaking, and Thranduil honestly didn’t care.

They lay there for some minutes, still breathing heavy, and exchanging loving caresses and languid kisses, as they held each other.  Just to lay next to each other skin to skin was glorious.

“I wish we could stay like this.”  Thranduil kissed his husband’s hair.

Bard shifted into a more comfortable position, then laid his head on the Elvenking’s shoulder and snuggled into him.  “It was even better than I remembered, or what I dreamed of, and let me tell you, I was dreaming of you _a lot.”_ he said with a contented sigh.

“I have imagined you, as well; it mattered little whether I was asleep or awake.” Thranduil whispered, with his eyes closed, feeling relaxed and content, for the first time in over a month.  “I am sorry for what brought you here, but I am not sorry to hold you in my arms.”

“Mmmm….  You feel so good. Everything feels better, when I have you. 

“We cannot stay here long, _Meleth nîn,_ although I hate to leave.”

“Oh, I know.  Thanks for thinking of this.  I really didn’t want to make love with you with my small daughter within earshot, and Meriel listening in.”

“We will be making use of my office frequently while you are here.”

He could feel Bard’s smile against his chest.  “Good. Sneaking around makes me feel like a naughty young lad.”

“Hmmmm.... I did not think of it that way, but I find that exciting.  Perhaps we can find other places to sneak off to.”

“Oooh...  Like the Throne Room?”  Bard asked hopefully.

“Please, please, no.  Every time I am in there, I can still see my father.  I doubt I could even kiss you in that room.”

“Ugh.”  Bard shuddered.  Then he lifted his head at looked at Thranduil’s face.  “There’s always the walk-in closet,” he grinned.

“If you only knew how often I sat in there with my necklace on…”  the Elf groaned.

“In front of the mirror?”  He could feel Bard’s grin, along with his snicker.

“Oh, yes…”

“I meant what I said in my letter, love.  After this, I don’t want us separate for more than a week or two.  This has been agony.”

“I agree.  The only benefit is my time alone with the children, and for that, I am grateful. It has helped our relationship a great deal.  Galion and I have loved all the small moments and joys of parenting.”

“Such as?”

 “Making sure they are dressed warmly, or helping with their lessons, or playing in the snow.”  Thranduil mused.  “The best so far, has been dancing with Sigrid at her party.  It was good to be an _Ada,_ that night.  She was so beautiful and gracious; I thought my heart would burst with love and pride.”

“I’m glad you could have that with her.  Your painting of her means the world to me, love.”  Bard traced his fingers in small circles on Thranduil’s chest, and snuggled closer to him. “But I especially loved the other picture you sent with it.”

“So, you liked it?” Thranduil grinned wickedly in the dark.

“Let’s just say I made good use of it, and it’s well-hidden.  I don’t how you captured that moment of our joining, but it was all there.  That was one of the most beautiful moments of my entire life.”

I feel the same way.” Thranduil kissed Bard’s hair again, then began to move.  “We need to get back to our  _Tithen Pen_ , in case she wakes.”

“That we do.  Let’s go.”  They cleaned up, got dressed, then Thranduil picked up his stained robe from the couch and they went back to their apartment, where all seemed quiet.

They checked the nursery, and saw Tilda sleeping, tucked in with her toys. 

“Is she all right?” Bard asked Meriel.

“Her sleep is becoming more natural, My Lord.” Meriel told them.  “Another good sign.  I still need to wake her, for her dose of medicine, but if she continues this way, she will sleep all night, very soon.”

“She looks sweet lying there, does she not?”  Thranduil whispered, smiling.

Meriel nodded her head.  “Yes.  I am glad to see she is improving.”

Bard told the Healer.  “I’ll be back, as soon as I’ve had a bath.”

They both went to bathe and change into sleeping clothes and robes.  “You go on to bed, love.  You’re still recovering from everything.  I’ll be in later.”

“Of course, _Meleth nîn.”_   He put his arms around Bard and kissed him.  “Go be with our daughter.” 

Once Bard went into the nursery, Thranduil gratefully crawled into bed.  Bard had been right; he still struggled with exhaustion after all his efforts in the bathing room.  As he lay his head on the pillow, he pulled the covers up and smiled.  

Bard was here.   And Tilda would live. These two thoughts sent him into a deep, restful sleep.

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Brennil Vuin_ – Beloved Lady

 _Ci velethron e-guil nîn, Bard_ – You are the love of my life, Bard

 _A ma!  Pathro nin!_ – Oh, yes!  Fill me!

 _Law no lagor; ídhron gi mathad bân._ \- Slow down; let me feel it all.

 _A, ma!  Gi melin, Bard.  Avo dharo!_ – Oh, yes!  I love you, Bard. Don’t stop…”

 

NOTES:

A **Corbie** is a Scottish/Celtic word for Raven.

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feren enjoys the delights of parenting his two golden girls, while he lets his wife sleep in. 
> 
> The quarantine has been lifted and not only can the children go back to school, but Tilda can see her brother and sister! Even her teachers came to visit.
> 
> Bard shares a special moment with his oldest daughter, much to the delight of everyone guarding the Royal Wing.
> 
> Bard notices that the pictures on the mantle have been joined by several new ones.

 

 

 

 

**The Woodland Realm; 10 th of February, 2942, T.A.**

Feren woke up, with a soft, warm arm over his stomach.  Glélindë’s head was snuggled into his shoulder, so he raised his arm and pulled her closer, and kissed the top of her auburn head.  He sighed contentedly, closed his eyes again, hoping to get a little more sleep, when the door opened, and a little, curly-haired body tore into the room and crawled on the bed.

 _“Ooof!”_ He exclaimed, as Dafina landed on his stomach.  “When did you get to be so big, _Mallen_ _Ant_ _?_   Did you grow in your sleep again?”  He began to tickle her, and her giggles caused his wife to begin to stir.

 _“Nana!”_   Dafina pounced on her mother with delight.

“Good morning, Sweet One.”  ‘Lindë yawned and stretched her arms.  “I see you are awake; how is your ear?”

Dafina put her hand on her left ear and smiled again.  “Better.  No sniffle!”

“Is that so?  Let me see, _Mîr_ _nîn_ …”

Feren sat up, and managed to wrangle the wiggly child into his lap.  Then felt her forehead.  “You do not feel warm. I think you are better, child.”  He got out of bed, and carried her around to his wife’s side of the bed.  “Let us allow your _Nana_ to sleep a bit more.”  He leaned down and gave ‘Lindë a kiss.  “We’ll make breakfast.”

Glélindë moved to get up.  “I can do it…”

“And deny me a chance to play with my girls?  You are most cruel, wife.” He looked at Dafina.  “Your _Nana_ does not want us to play; is she not mean?”

 _“Ada!_   _Nana’s_ not mean; she’s nice!” The tot crossed her arms.  I yove her!”

“Ah, well, I suppose she is acceptable.  Shall we give her a nice breakfast in bed, to thank her for looking after my golden girls?”

“Aye!”  Dafina clapped her hands, then pointed to her mother with a stern look.  “You ‘tay dere,” she ordered. 

“You will not hear me argue with that.”  ‘Lindë snuggled back down, and winked at her husband.

Feren put the little girl down, and said, “Go get your sister up, so we can get started.”  With a pat on her behind, she scampered off.

Then the Commander sat on the bed, and kissed his wife good morning properly. 

“Mmmm,” she said.  “Now, _that_ is a greeting I can never get enough of.”

He looked down at his lovely wife, and stroked his fingers over her cheeks, “I love you very much.”

‘Lindë’s dimple appeared, as she smiled back.  “Are you happy, _Meleth nîn?”_

“Perfectly.  But I am always happy when I am with you.”  He grinned.

She sat up, “How was Thranduil, yesterday?  I did not get a chance to ask you; it gets so busy here.”

Feren’s face sobered.  “I am sorry for what he is going through.  He just found happiness again, and this seems cruel. He looked so…tired, ‘Lindë.”

“He and Bard have each other, and that is more than we could have wished for.  And the child will recover; I was afraid her loss would break him.”

“I was afraid of that, too.  He has been making an effort to speak of things with Galion, and that is something he has not done, before Bard came into his life.”

“That is good news.  Galion will help him.” she put her hand on his face.  “I feel selfish, Feren.  I am sorry Princess Tilda got so sick, but I am more relieved our own children are well.”

He took her hand and kissed it.  “You are not selfish, _Meleth._   Or if you are, then I am, as well, because it was all I could think about.  Thranduil and I talked about those joys and perils; I love our girls, but I fear for them, too.  I fear for ourselves, should something happen.   Thranduil said we would worry, regardless of whether our children were Human or Elven.”

“We would.  But we have today, and it is good.”  She smiled again.

“It is very good.”  Feren looked deep into her captivating grey eyes.  _“Gi Melin, Glélindë,”_ he smiled, and bent his head down, to kiss her again, this time, much deeper and more passionately. 

‘Lindë’s arms made their way around his neck, and she pulled him in even more, as she opened her mouth to him, so their tongues could dance.   Feren’s hand made its way into her nightgown to cup her breast, and rub his thumb around her nipple, causing it to perk up into a hard pebble.  Her breath caught, and her moan caused a stirring in his loins. She tightened her arms and pulled him even closer. 

“I wish I would have woken up earlier…”  He groaned into her mouth.  “Suddenly I can think of a much better breakfast...”  His hand now worked his way up her thigh, reaching for her hot, wet…

A loud clang was heard from the kitchen, just then.

 _“ADA!  AWIS IS TWYING TO ‘TOOK!”_ he heard Dafina yell.

“Tattle-tale!”  They heard Alis’s indignant reply. “I _wanted_ to surprise them!”

Feren grinned down at his wife, who said, “This was your idea, _Meleth nîn.”_

 

Once the girls had given their mother her breakfast (with Feren carrying the tray), they settled down at the table with him and their grandfather.

“Do you yike it, Grandda?  I ‘tooked it all by mysewf!” Dafina announced proudly.

“Oh, Aye, dearie.”  Poor Gruffudd looked at his toast with its thick, uneven blobs of butter.  He nibbled on a corner of it, “Mmmm,” he said, and her face lit up.  “What a feast you’ve made for me, love!”

Feren hid a smile, then distracted her, while Gruffudd surreptitiously scraped the excess butter off, and he ate it quickly.

“Can we go outside today, _Ada?”_   Alis asked.

“Ooh!  Outside!”  Davina clapped her hands.  “I wanna pet da horsies!”

“I am sorry, but you have just gotten over a cold, _Mallen_ _Ant,_ and we must stay in our home, for a few more days, like the King says.”

Alis looked at her Ada, thoughtfully.  “Because Tilda got so sick?”

“Yes, _Glawariel._   King Thranduil and the Healers need to make sure you do not get sick like that, and we must always do as our King commands, must we not?” He patted his oldest daughter’s blonde curls.  “Do not worry, we will find things to do and to play.”

“I know!  You ‘tan be da horsie, and we ‘tan wide you!”  Dafina suggested. 

The girls turned their wide, blue eyes full blast on him, and made sure to give him their most angelic smiles. “Please, _Ada?”_

Feren’s response was a loud neigh.

 

*******************

**The Woodland Realm, 14 th of February, 2942, T.A.**

 

Tilda was much the same the next three days, and the two Kings took turns sitting with her as the rest of the family peeked in with a friendly wave.  When Bard and Thranduil weren’t sitting at her bedside, they were keeping the other children busy, often running around with them in the King’s garden to work off their energy, or sitting at the table and helping them keep up with their lessons. 

Hilda found the quarantine a great opportunity to catch up on rest, paperwork and update Bard, regarding his subjects staying in the Realm.  She and Galion enjoyed going outside, too.  As the two walked through the stone paths, he would tell her what was under the covered beds, and they exchanged ideas for Bard’s Castle Gardens, and other places in Dale. 

Daeron and Meriel worked their shifts and carefully monitored Tilda, who showed no signs of relapse.  Yesterday, Daeron officially pronounced her out of danger, and the quarantine was lifted.   The danger of Tilda’s illness was past, but he still ordered the isolation, with the gowns and masks, for another two weeks, until her resistance was built up again.

Another sign of progress (especially to Tilda’s mind), was that she was sometimes strong enough to sit in the privy by herself, if someone carried her to it, and as long as she hung on to something.  She was awake for longer periods of time, and liked nothing better than snuggling up with her Da, and her _Ada._

She was back on solid foods, particularly greens, meats, and eggs to get her strength back up, mostly served in hearty soups.   Daeron’s mother, Idril, and her kitchen staff sent some special desserts, along with their best wishes.  She still didn’t have much of an appetite, so the little tarts with the crusts made in the shapes of flowers or leaves, were a wonderful treat, but only after she finished her soup and milk.

Two days ago, the Tailor’s guild presented them all with a stack of clean, pink robes for the family to wear when they visited Tilda, which improved her spirits.  They made masks, for them to wear, with ties along the top and bottom, which was easier than kerchiefs. As promised, Glélindë had made a surprise for her; a little robe and mask for Charlotte, and even one for Daisy! 

When they arrived, Meriel helped Tilda dress her toys in their sickroom finery, and they pretended Charlotte was a Healer who was treating Daisy’s broken hoof.

To everyone’s surprise, Bain didn’t mind at all wearing pink.  He was just glad to see his little sister, and was eager to read, talk or just about anything she was up for.

Tilda became upset when her siblings and Auntie Hil still wore the masks, so Thranduil sat down with the children at the table, and helped them paint colorful, silly smiles on them, to cheer her up.  Sigrid wanted to know why Bard didn’t have to wear one, but Daeron explained that 'Tilda needed to see her father; she would do better.'  It wasn’t a lie, but she asked no further questions, thankfully.

Thank the Valar, Tilda could still see, and hear just as well as she could before.  When she spoke, her speech was clear and concise, not slurred at all.

But she _was_ _changed_. 

She was still very weak, and they noticed her left side was weaker than her right.  It was early days, yet, but she had difficulty remembering things.  Tilda sometimes couldn’t remember what she ate at her last meal, or who her last visitor was, and it frightened her, often to tears.  She struggled with proper names of things or people, and her hands lacked some coordination.  Bard and the others helped her with her cups, she needed help to hold her spoon, but they made sure not to push her, just yet. 

It was a bit startling to witness Tilda’s rapid mood swings, which was worse when she was tired.  She’d be smiling and happy, then become frustrated and burst into tears of fury, and need to be soothed.  She was frightened, and no one could blame her; they were all frightened, too.

It would be a long time, before they could know if this was only temporary, or if she’d never be her sunny little self, again.  All they could do was love her, and wait.

When Mistress Bronwyn came to see her, for a short visit, she brought Miss Eryn, the teacher from Tilda’s age group.  Her little face lit up, when she saw them, and began to struggle to remember their names.

As instructed, they introduced themselves, and pretended like this was perfectly normal.

“What a beautiful little room you have here!”  Her teacher said.  “The children want me to tell you they miss you and hope you’re feeling better soon.  Here.” Miss Eryn handed her a stack of papers. “They have made these drawings to cheer you up.”

Tilda took them, and together, they looked at some of them, as she smiled.  “I like them.”

“We could have them put up on the wall here, so you can see them, what do you think?”

She nodded.  “Pretty.”

“I’ll see your Auntie Hil and we’ll take care of it.”

“Can I draw?”

“Sure, you can, love.  I know you love to make pictures.  I’ll see about that, too.”

Tilda smiled and nodded.  “I have a…”  she screwed up her face and tried to think.  _“Ada_ gave me –“

“Lord Galion told me you have a new desk, is that what you mean?”

She nodded, relieved.

Bronwyn smiled. “I heard it was lovely, but you might be in bed for a while, so, maybe we can find you a little tray, so you can draw or write. What do you think about that?” She patted the little girl’s leg.

Tilda nodded her head. “I got sick.”

“Aye, that you did, love,” Bronwyn nodded.  “We’re so glad you’re getting better.”  The women got up, and made ready to leave.  “We’ll get this all set up for you, so make sure you get your rest.”  They waved goodbye to Tilda, and curtsied to King Bard, who was just entering, with his gown on.

“Are you tired, Little Bean?  You’ve had a big day.” Bard was taking his place on the bed beside her, so she could cuddle into him.

“A little,” she sighed. 

After they talked for a short while, he put his arms around her.  “Get some sleep, now.”  He stroked her hair and sang her a lullaby, until her eyes closed, and her breath became even.

Bard very gently extricated himself from the bed, and tucked her in with a kiss to her forehead.  Hilda had just gotten her gown on, and sat down.  “You go on and have some time to yourself.  I’m here, now.”

Bard reached down and kissed her cheek.  “You always are, and we love you for it.  Where’s Thranduil?”

“He’s in his office.  Dáin sent another bird this morning, wanting an update."  

“Oh, good.”  Bard agreed with Thranduil - messages via Raven _was_ genius.  They were exchanging daily updates, so Bard could be assured that his Kingdom was holding together, and the folks in Dale could be assured the worst of the sickness had past, and no other child had suffered.  Dáin’s note yesterday sent along his best wishes to “Dale’s little diplomat.”

 

Today, the children went back to school, and were now at their afternoon activities.  The King of Dale stepped across the hall and into his husband’s study.  Thranduil looked up from this work and smiled. “ _Meleth nîn!_   How is our _Tithen Pen?”_

“Napping.   Hilda’s sitting with her now; Sigrid’s in the Healing Hall and Daeron’s doing the boys’ archery lesson.”  Bard looked through to the adjoining room. “Where’s Galion?”

“He is taking the day off.  I insisted.  He has worked hard to help us get through this, and he needs some rest and solitude, though he will not admit it."

“So…” Bard grinned at his Elf.  “We’re alone?” he asked, as he closed both doors, and locked them.

“So, it would seem.  For a little while, at least.”  Thranduil came around and gathered the Bowman into his arms.  “Is there something you need from me?” he nibbled on Bard’s earlobe, then placed warm wet kisses up and down his neck. 

“Yep.  You.”  He grinned, before he grabbed the back of the Elf’s neck and kissed him, deep and hard.

“You feel so good, _Meleth nîn.”_   Thranduil moaned, and rubbed their hips together, as their breathing became heavier.

“I’d feel even better with you inside me, don't you think?"

Another moan.  “Yes, I do...  _No gûn annin;_ _Ídhron gi phuithad!”_

Before Bard could respond, the Elvenking whipped Bard around and bent him over his desk, with a snarl.  Hands grabbed at his laces and his leggings were quickly pushed down past his hips and off.  Thranduil didn’t need to work hard to prepare him, because Bard was still fairly loose from their joining last night, but he still took the time to work his fingers against Bard’s sweet spot, causing him to throw his head back with a loud groan. 

“Oh, fuck…”  He panted, and couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into air a couple of times, as Thranduil’s fingers continued to massage his prostate in small circles.  Thranduil’s other hand reached around and stroked his cock, then massaged his balls, before he moved up to pinch and roll Bard’s nipple between his finger and his thumb.  All Bard could do is grab on to the edge of the desk, to keep himself from falling over.  He rubbed his arse against Thranduil’s hips, and begged him for more.

“Please…” he begged. “Please, love, I need you inside me.  Fuck me!” 

The fingers left him, and in seconds, a hot, oiled cock slid into him, and Thranduil was whispering filthy things in Sindarin.  _“Mae ad limp mi gin,”_ the Elf moaned out the words in a hoarse voice, and Bard could feel him shudder with pleasure, as his hands pulled Bard’s hips hard against him as he was filled to the hilt with Thranduil’s throbbing length. 

It felt glorious, and he wanted more.  “Aaah…that’s it…” he moaned, and adjusted his posture to allow Thranduil deeper access.  “Gods, give me more…”

“I love to be inside of you, _Meleth nîn._   I love to fuck you like this…”  Thranduil was gasping as he leaned back and fucked into Bard with enthusiasm.  _“A! Ma…”_ he exclaimed, as he changed his angle slightly to rub against Bards prostate, causing them both to gasp moan with delight. 

“Harder, damn you! Is that all you’ve... _mnnngh_...got for me?  I want it harder!  AAH!”  Bard urged his husband on, in a hoarse voice.  “Give it to me, you bastard.  Do it!”  Bard panted and moaned as every thrust hit the sweet bundle of nerves inside him, and he his muscles tensed and rippled as Thranduil began to pound into him in earnest, with lewd sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.  _“Bloody fuck!”_   Bard screamed, and he scrambled frantically to keep his grip on the desk. 

Thranduil leaned over him and took his cock in one hand, and massaged his balls with the other.  “I like making you curse,” he whispered into Bard’s ear, “I want to make you scream…” before he bit down on Bard’s shoulder, and his Bowman began to keen. 

“Yes, yes, _Meleth nîn,_ sing for me!  More!” He began to stroke the head of Bard’s cock in time with his own thrusts, and soon, they were both coming with loud cries.  Bard could feel Thranduil’s cock shiver inside of him, and with a shriek, he came in Thranduil’s hand.  They still moved together, to enjoy every last pulse, every last sensation, before they slowly began to come back to themselves. 

 “How can I ever sit in this room again and not think of this?” The Elvenking croaked, before he began to nuzzle his neck, and get his breath under control.  As rough as Thranduil was earlier, he was gentle now, holding him close and kissing Bard sweetly on his neck and jawline.

Bard snickered, “Will you get anything done, when you see your desk, now?  I can see you over on the couches, trying to have a meeting, and all you’re thinking about is how you fucked me on it.”

“Galion will surely wonder why I will have such a grin on my face.”

"No, he won't." Bard laughed.  "He'll know _exactly_ why.  Stars, he puts up with a lot, doesn’t he?”

“He does.” Thranduil nipped on the shell of his ear.

At last, Thranduil soften enough to leave him, and he reached for the drawer where he kept some small towels.  He cleaned himself off, then he wiped Bard down and removed any evidence of their lovemaking on the desk. 

It didn’t take long to straighten up the items on it; yesterday they had gotten so carried away, that Bard swiped his arm and cleared it off in one graceful movement, before he threw Thranduil on his back and had his way with him.  It was wild and romantic, yes, but it also took Thranduil nearly an hour to reorganize all the stacks of paper, and he was thankful he had put the inkpots away.  After that, Thranduil kept most items stacked on his credenza, just in case.

Since Bard’s arrival, they used this office just about every day for their trysts, so they both made sure to keep it stocked with oil, towels and a small bar of soap, to use with Thranduil’s regular pitcher of water.

 “Do you think anybody besides Galion knows what goes on in here?” Bard whispered, as he began to fasten up his leggings.

The Elvenking laughed.  “I am sure the only ones who do _not,_ are the children, and I wonder if Sigrid may suspect.  But better this than where Tilda could see and hear.  We want her to recover, do we not?”  Once his robes were restored, he gathered the Bowman into his arms, and began to kiss him, thoroughly. 

“Better stop that,” Bard whispered against his lips, “or we’ll be going at each other again.”

“I have no objections to that,” said the Elf, “but it is time for the children to return from their afternoon lessons, and they will be looking for us.”  He looked into Bard’s eyes with sadness.  “You must return to your Kingdom soon, _Meleth nîn,_ though I hate to think of it.”

“I know, love.”  He sighed.  “So far, Percy’s handling things, and now that Feren is back there, I feel a bit better, but… there’s so much to do in Dale, and hardly enough time to get it all done…  I can’t stay more than another week, but then I _have_ to get back.   I hope Tilda can handle it."

“We are Kings, and we often have to choose between our families and our Kingdoms, but I wonder, in this case, if you cannot do both.”

Bard sighed.  “I can’t even come on my scheduled visit in two weeks; it wouldn’t be fair to the other men.”

“You are mistaken, I think.  'Kinging' is a demanding job, yes, but _you are_ the King, and I think you could come anyway, even if you only stay a day or two.  In fact, I think we should start our agreement to not separate for more than two weeks immediately.”

“Now?”

“You and I _need_ this, Bard.  We are stronger and better this way, and that can only benefit our people.  Most important, our Tilda will feel stronger, too, if she knows she will see you soon.  She needs you, and obligations to family shows your people how important such things are.  You are setting the example for the kind of behavior you expect from them."  Thranduil kissed him. “You should come, _Meleth nîn.”_

Bard considered this.  “Aye, you’re right.  I wouldn’t have to worry about the cold; it doesn’t seem to bother me so much anymore.  I just don’t want anyone thinking I'm being selfish, and starting to act like the old Master.  As much as the men seem to like me, it wouldn’t take much for them to stop trusting me; not enough time has gone by, yet.”

“I doubt anyone will think you are abusing your power, _Meleth nîn._ Suppose a child from one of your men were that ill?  You would send him packing and tell him to stay as long as he needs to, would you not?"

“I _would_ do that, but…”

“To ease your concern, write to Percy - have him see how your men feel.  I would not be surprised if they insist you stay _longer._   When you do return, as I know you must, send Percy on his visit. It will do a great deal to cheer Tilda, and I think our Hilda needs to see him, too.  She is much like Galion; she looks after all of us, often at her own expense."

“I’ll do that.  The wagons will be leaving in five days, I think; I’ll return with them, and send Percy.  Old Ben will the coming, too - Rhian would like that.

“Good.  Rhian would benefit from seeing Master Ben.  We should go to see her and the child soon, as well.  Hannah and Indis tell me she is doing much better.  Our visit should not distress her."

“I also think I should take care of some unpleasant business, as long as I’m here.”

“Are you referring to your prisoners?”

“Aye.   Alun's come up with a proposition, to dispense with the situation, and as long as I’m here, I might as well put it to them.”

“Oh?  What is that?” Thranduil asked, so Bard told him of his and Alun’s conversation a couple of weeks ago, of sending them off to Bree.

“Bree?” Thranduil laughed.  “Punishment, indeed!  But it certainly would be better than being the King who threw old ladies in a dungeon.  He is right, _Meleth nîn._   You would damage your standing if you did this.”

“I was a smart idea, wasn’t it?”

“Alun’s solution makes good sense.  When I spoke with him during his visit, I was impressed, with him, Bard; he will make an excellent member of your Council.  As far as the women; I suggest that you see them, yes, but say nothing of their sentence.  Do not give them time to think about it.”

“Mmmm….  Even better.”  Bard smiled and nuzzled his nose against Thranduil’s.

“Of course, I will abide by your decision, My King.” The Elf smiled, and moved his lips over Bard’s softly, so that it tickled.

“Thank you, My King.” Said Bard, before he plunged his tongue into his husband’s mouth.  They kissed for several long, satisfying minutes, then reluctantly broke apart.

“I would love to have you again, _Meleth nîn,_ but it is time for the children to come home.” 

“Children…  Oh, that’s right.  We have children, don’t we?” Bard’s eyes were closed, and he was enjoying Thrandiul’s lips on his neck.

“We do.”  Thranduil pulled back and turned Bard around and smacked him on the bottom. “Stop being a temptation.”

Bard answered by blowing him a raspberry, and wiggling his arse.

“Very attractive.”

Thranduil was closing the study door behind them, just as Sigrid, Bain and Rhys returned from their afternoon activities, followed by Daeron.

 _“Suilad, Aran ni_ _̂_ _n, Brannon ni_ _̂_ _n,”_ the Guard saluted the kings.

Bard returned the greeting, then said, “Tilda’s napping, but she seems to be having a good day, so far.”

“Excellent news, My Lord.”  Daeron turned to Sigrid. “Shall we wash, and examine her?”

The young lady nodded eagerly, but then looked guilty.  “I hate that Tilda got so sick, but I’m learning a lot.”

Thranduil put his arm around her.  “It is wise to gather such knowledge where you can, _Iellig._   That is no sin.  It also helps you learn focus, does it not?” 

Sigrid responded. “You’re right.  Elénaril tells me to ‘shut it off.’  It could be dangerous, if I don’t, so it's good to practice that with Tilda."

“I agree.”  Daeron nodded, as they followed the Kings into their chambers.

“Does anyone have homework?” Bard asked.  “We’ll be eating in the Dining Hall tonight; Galion is taking the day off, so get it done now, yeah?”

“I’ve got a lot, but I’m really hungry!” Bain groaned.

“Do you have time to take Esta outdoors?”

Both boys shook their heads, so Thranduil whistled, and sent the dog out with a guard for some exercise.

“I have homework, too, but I want to examine Tilda first.  Daeron, are you staying with her while we eat?”

“I am.  Come, let us wash and gown up.  I want you to take the lead, this time.”

Sigrid smiled and nodded eagerly.  “Just as long as you check her, too.”

“Of course.” Daeron agreed, and they left the room.

Bard turned to his hungry son, as the boys sat down at the table with their books and writing implements.  “There’s fruit on the side board, boys.  Will that do you?”

“Aye, thanks.  I’m glad were eating in the Dining Hall, tonight.  After all this, I think it’ll be good for our people to see us.”

 _“_ You are thinking like a Prince, and this pleases your Da and me.” Thranduil told him. “You are correct.  Your people need to see their King and his family, so we can assure them personally of Tilda’s improvement, and your own good health."

Bain smiled at Thranduil.  “Thanks, _Ada._   Well, sooner started with this, sooner done.  I never thought I would say this, but I was glad to go back to class, even if I do have lots of work to do.  It feels good to get back to a normal routine after...”  The boy looked at his fathers, sheepishly.  “Is it terrible to say I wasn’t just afraid for Tilda, but for myself?  I was scared I would get sick, too.”

“No, son. It’s not.  I think it’s perfectly reasonable.  No one would wish it.” Bard looked at Rhys, too.  “How are you?”

“I’m fine, My Lord.  I’m just happy that she’s doing well.”

“You’ve got your own room back; I’ll be that’s a relief.” Bard smiled.

Rhys shrugged.  “I didn’t mind.  Daeron needed to stay close by, and Bain’s bed is huge. These are the nicest rooms I’ve ever been in; so it didn’t’ much matter.  How long do you think it will be before Tilda can go back to school?”

Thranduil shook his head.  “I have no idea.  But we will be tutoring her here until she is strong enough.  We still need to discover the effects of her illness, so we need to be work around that.”

Bain looked up.  “If she can’t keep up with her class just yet, she would be happy to be around her friends.  It might do her good, when she’s ready.”

The Kings looked at each other.  “You’ve got a point there.”  Bard said.  “Now, you’re thinking like a good big brother.  He smiled at the boys.  “Take your own advice and get your work done.”

 

***************

 

The Royal Family’s presence in the Dining Hall was a welcome one.  Bard and the children went to every table and visited with them, so they could wish Tilda well, and speak of their experience here.

Thranduil sat back in his seat and watched, as Bard smiled at chatted with his people.  He wasn’t just paying lip service for the sake of appearances; he genuinely wanted to make sure his subjects were faring well.  And there was Bain right beside him, asking questions and listening.  Even Rhys was there, supporting his best friend, much like Feren did with Thranduil, most of his life.  Bain will need someone like Rhys, especially after he became King. 

He could see Sigrid, at another table, smiling and talking with a group of women and Elves.  Of course, they were asking about Tilda, but their fathers had instructed the children to only speak in general terms, not specifics.  _Yes, she is getting better every day; thank you for asking.  Of course, we’ll send along our good wishes; you are very kind…._

A rush of pride and affection flowed through his heart.  This beautiful man was _his._   These children were _his._   His eyes stung a little, as he, once more, sent up his thanks to Mírelen for her help.  He didn’t deserve any of this, but that was the wonderful thing about love, wasn’t it?  No one could earn it; it just _was._

Hilda came and sat down beside him, and they both watched Bard for a few minutes.  “I am glad we came here, tonight,” he told her.

“Aye.  Those people need him, and he needs to see them, just as much.  He’s a good man, like his Da was.”

“I agree, My Lady.  I have long known that a good ruler has little to do with bloodlines; it comes from a character and temperament one is born with.  It also helps to have good people to help nurture it.  From what I have heard, his father was a credit to his family, and to his people.”

“Aye.  Brand was the best of men, and all Bard ever wanted, was to be like him.”  Hilda said.  “I wish you could have known him, love.  You’d have felt the same way.”

“I would have enjoyed knowing Brand, but you and Percy deserve much credit for Bard’s success, as well.”  He smiled at the older woman.  “You and your husband are to Bard what Galion is to me: a solid foundation, for all the things we need to be, especially when Kingship demands more than we can bear.  You have taken my husband in, and loved him like a son, and I am grateful.”  He kissed her hand. 

Hilda cleared her throat and smiled, as her eyes filled.  “Stop that, you.  I refuse to blubber in front of all these people.”

Then she became thoughtful, and said, “I don’t know if Bard ever knew, but Brand asked us to look after his boy, in case something happened to him.  Maybe he knew Bard was destined for greatness, beyond their life in Laketown.  Or, maybe he knew he wouldn’t be with us, much longer.  You’ll never convince me that Brand died of a ‘natural causes.’  We think the Master had him killed, because the folks of Laketown were turning to him for help more and more.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened.  “Surely not!”

The woman shook her head, sadly.  “Aye. No one will convince me different.  Folks weren’t nearly as stupid as the Master liked to think they were, and they knew a good leader when they saw one.  Whatever he hoped to gain, if he did kill Brand, didn’t work out for him, so well, anyway, so Brand died for nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Bard’s Da passed, no one looked to the Master - they looked to Bard.  Brand’s death only made everyone revere him, as a martyr.  A lot of folks were suspicious about his death, so it made them more determined to look out for Bard, and protect him, when the Master’s men were harassing him.”

“Working together like this made your people stronger and closer, do you not think?  As sad as it sounds, perhaps Brand _did not_ die for nothing.” Thranduil suggested.  “A great deal of good came as a result of the Master’s treachery.”

Hilda sat back and thought about it, then she smiled.  “You’re right.  By the time the Dragon came, we'd learned work together, and really rely on each other.  That helped us survive when we all washed ashore that day.  I think Brand would be pleased and proud of all of us, not just his son.”

Thranduil put his hand on hers, and gave it a squeeze.  “I think so, as well.  Does Bard look much like his father?”

“Oh, yes, just like Bain is the image of his own Da.”

“Bard told me his mother passed from a fever when he was young.”

“She did.  Our own Sigrid was named for her, did you know that? She was a wonderful woman.” Then she told him, “Bard wasn’t an only child, you know.”

“He was not?”  Thranduil was surprised.  “He never said anything about having a brother or a sister.”

“Brand and his wife had a daughter, who died when she was a baby.  I didn’t know them then, but I had heard the baby never really thrived.  Something with her little heart, poor thing.  Died before she was a year old.  Later, after we became friends with Brand, she'd gotten pregnant again, and lost it in her sixth month and his Sigrid took it hard.  I spent a lot of time with her, to keep her busy and occupied.”

“What was she like?”

“I see a lot of her in Tilda, as far as looks, and her ways.  Our baby likes to step back and look things over before she can know what to think about something.  She gets that from her Grandmam.   She was a kind gentle soul; never feisty, just sweet.  She was tiny, like Tilda, and the midwife wondered if that's why she had trouble carrying babies.  When she was carrying again, the they kept her on bed rest most of the time, and Brand took on any extra work he could, to buy milk and good food." Hilda smiled.  "It paid off, because she gave birth to our strapping healthy boy, who was his parent’s pride and joy.”

“Does Bard know about the other children?”

Hilda nodded, "Oh, aye. But, he doesn't think about it, much.  Our Bard's not one to ruminate over things he can’t do anything about.”

Thranduil smiled.  “That sounds like him.” He looked across the Dining Hall again, and observed his husband, who happened to look up and meet his gaze.  Thranduil's heart squeezed, and he sighed.   

Hilda who was watching him, snickered.  “Besotted, the both of you.”  She laughed.

“We are, indeed,” he replied with a smile.

 

***************

 

After everyone returned to their chambers, it was almost time for baths and bed, so Thranduil went in to sit with Tilda, while Bard went to Children’s apartment, to supervise their nighttime ablutions.  After boys had bathed and went to their rooms, Sigrid came out in her robe, and towel-drying her hair.  She sat with Bard on the couch so she could comb it out.

He put his arm around her.  “It was a good day.”

“It was.  It’ll be even better when Tilda’s strong again.  I refuse to believe she won’t be.” 

Bard took the comb from her and helped her with her hair, like he did when she was little.  “Remember what Uncle Percy says: ‘One foot in front of the other,’ so that’s what we’ll do.”  He smiled at her.  “Your _Ada_ and I spoke about me coming again in couple of weeks, so I can see how Tilda is doing.”

“Can you do that?” she asked hopefully.

“I think I should; for a day or two.  It helps Tilda to see me, and right now, that’s the most important thing.”

“Does Uncle Percy know everything with Tilda?”

“I haven’t written him, but I’m sure your Auntie Hil has.  Thranduil did, too.”  Bard sighed.  “Better them than me.”

“Why?”

“Because…” he struggled to find the words.  “I can’t stand the idea of seeing words like that on paper.  I’m like you; I have to believe she’s the same old Tilda.  If I write it down, then…all I fear could be real.”

Sigrid’s lip wobbled, and she nodded.

Bard gathered her into his arms, and rested his chin on her head.  “Like you said, love, whatever happens, we’ll hold each other up, and get through it.”  He kissed her hair.  “She has so many people who love her fiercely.  How could she _not_ get better?”

Sigrid, nodded, “We’re so lucky to have Daeron’s help.  And _Ada’s_.”

“Maybe ‘luck’ isn’t the right word.  ‘Blessed’ is better.”

“Aye.  We’re blessed.”  Sigrid dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.  Then she laughed.  “I almost expect _Ada_ to appear with his handkerchief.”

“There’s never an Elf around when you need one.”

 _“Ada’s_ always around when we need him." The girl snuggled into Bard.   "We all love him, Da, I want you to know that.”

“Makes things convenient, doesn't it?"

Sigrid giggled a little.  “It was _wonderful_ when he danced with me at my birthday party, but we both wished you could be there.  I wanted a dance with you, too.”

Bard kissed her hair then got up, and held his hand out.  “Come on.”

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, led her out the door, and into the wide hallway. He gave her a formal bow, “May I have this dance, My Lady?”

Sigrid giggled, and curtsied in her robe and slippers, “I would be very honored, My King.”

The King of Dale gathered his daughter into his arms, and began to sing a lovely Laketown tune as they danced.  The Elven Guards were smiling, as they watched father and daughter take a turn on the smooth, polished floor, with Bard holding her hand close to his heart.  Sigrid laughed, and put her feet on top of his, just like she did when she was little. 

“I love you, Da.”  She said, as she laid her head on his chest.

“I love you more.”  He pulled back and twirled her around, only to gather her up to him again, and the swaying continued. 

When the song ended, Bard dipped his daughter gracefully, and they were rewarded with spontaneous applause by every Guard on the Royal Wing. 

The King and the Princess bowed gracefully to their captive audience, then went back in, so Bard could tuck her into bed.

 “Thanks for the dance, Da."   She held her arms up so he could hug her. "That was magic.”

“Oh, I think the magic came from the beautiful girl in my arms.” He said as he his arms squeezed her tight, before he kissed her brow, again.  “Good night, love.”

“Good night, Da.”

After he left Sigrid’s room, he tiptoed into Bain’s room, took his book and put it on the bedside table.  After he pulled the covers up and turned down the lamp, he sat on the bed and watched his son sleep for a moment, before he brushed a light kiss on Bain’s brow.  He made sure to quietly close the door behind him.

Rhys was still up, when he peeked in.  “Are you all right?”  Bard asked.

Rhys sat up a little more, and put his book down.  “I’m fine, My Lord.  I was just reading this book Bain gave me.  I can’t put it down!”

Bard walked over and sat on the bed, as Rhys handed it to him.

“I looked at this some, on my first trip here.  I like reading stories about Dale, too.”

“Bain says it’s exciting, because all those Kings are his grandfathers!  I can hardly imagine it!”

Bard tilted his head, “Oh, I don’t know… Your Da tells me your family came from Dale, too.  Who’s to say that one of others mentioned in the book isn’t an ancestor of yours?  You never know.”

The boy’s eyes widened.  “That would be great!”

“Did Daeron ever tell you he knew King Girion personally?  You should ask him, about it, sometime.  You should also ask Thranduil.  He knew all my grandfathers in Dale.  Every single one.” 

“Really?”  Rhys squeaked.

Bard laughed.  “Oh, believe me, it’s hard to wrap your head around.  But it’s true.”

“Did you ever ask him about it?”  Rhys was curious.

“Not yet.  Everything he knows is in this book, anyway.”

“How do you know?”

Bard smiled at the boy, and opened the front of it, and showed him the title page. “Look.”

Rhys leaned over and read, “’Written by Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Woodland Realm.’  Wow.” He breathed.

“Wow, indeed.  He’s written several more on the history of the Northern Kingdoms.  I’m glad you enjoy history, Rhys.  Understanding the past, and where we come from, helps you know who you are, and who you want to become.”

Rhys nodded, then said, “I want to be just like my Da.”

“I like your Da.  He’s a good and honest man, and Dale needs more men like him.  I’m glad you’re proud of him, and I know he’s proud of you.  He told me you had a good visit.”

“Oh, we did!  I miss him, a lot, but I’m really glad to be here.  There’s so much to do!  And I really like staying here, with Bain.” he said, shyly.  “I’m glad King Thranduil took me away from Grandma and Aunt Iola.”

“I’m sorry you went through that, Rhys. and I know your Da is, too.  Are you all right, now?”

The boy smiled, and nodded.  “I was really scared, and didn’t know what to do, but King Thranduil was really nice.  People say he can be really mean and scary but he’s not like that!  He took me to the Healer, and helped me when I was scared to go in.  He stayed with me and then, he helped put the salve on my back, where I couldn’t reach.” 

Bard leaned forward and whispered, conspiratorially, “King Thranduil can be _very_ scary, when he wants to be, but he’s a handy Elf to have around.” 

The boy looked down.  “I’m sorry I got so mad at Bain, My Lord.  He was only trying to help me... I'm glad he told somebody."

“I understand, Rhys.  And all that matters, is that you’re better and you’re safe.  No worries.”  Bard winked, and stood up.  “I know you like your book, but it’s time to put it away and get some sleep, son.”  He put the book on the table, and tucked Rhys in, then put out the lamp.  “Have a good sleep, now," he said, ruffling his hair.

“I will, My Lord.  Thank you.”  Rhys closed his eyes and rolled over. "Good night."

Bard gently closed the boy’s door, made sure the lamp was burning low in the children’s privy, then made his way into his own chambers.  He stepped over to the big fireplace and looked at the mantelpiece.  He smiled when he saw the pictures of Legolas and Tauriel had now been joined by several additional small pictures in lovely wooden frames. 

Bard grinned, as he held the one with Tilda, sleeping on Galion’s couch, her little face was angelic in its repose, and there was Charlotte, clutched in her arms. And the blanket was in disarray around her; she even kicked her legs while napping.

He put it back in its place, and studied the picture of Bain.  There he was standing casually; holding his practice sword down at his side, laughing at something Rhys had said.  Thranduil had captured the boy’s natural exuberance and energy, along with his lopsided grin.  Rhys’s profile showed a him grinning with mischief.

And there was Sigrid.  She was sitting on the couch, next to Hilda, one leg tucked under, knitting. Somehow Thranduil managed to sketch the motion of her hands, and that little pout she does, when she’s concentrating.  There was even a sketch of Hilda and Galion, sitting at the table, planning something over a map or outline of something.  Those two complimented each other: Galion was like Percy – always calm and observant, whereas Hilda was always ready to jump in the fray and get things done.

They were his family now, and Thranduil had captured what he loved most about each of them. 

Bard gave the pictures one last look, then made his way into the nursery, to see their youngest daughter, who, thank the Valar, wouldn’t leave them any time soon.

One foot in front of the other. 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Mallen Ant_ – “Golden Gift” - Feren’s pet name for Dafina

 _Mi_ _̂_ _r ni_ _̂_ _n_ – My treasure

 _Glawariel_ – Daughter of Sunlight – Feren’s pet name for Alis.

 _No gûn annin;_ _Ídhron gi phuithad!_ – Bend over for me; I want to fuck you!

 _Mae ad limp mi gin_ – You feel so hot and wet, inside

 

Sindarin phrases courtesy of:  https://realelvish.net/phrasebooks/sindarin/doriath/

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After they send the kids off to school, Tilda begins her rehabilitation, but not without some heartbreaking moments. Don't worry, though, Esta's on the job, always, and she wants to help.
> 
> After a pleasant family gathering in the evening, Bard helps Thranduil get over his horrid memories of the night Tilda almost died, and after, they swap stories and laughs before they go to sleep.
> 
> The next day, Bard meets with Ina and Iola's guards and recieves an interesting report.

 

**The Woodland Realm, 15 th of February; 2942, T.A.**

 

Thranduil and Bard woke up early, and spent some leisure time looking up at the stars, and indulging in some kisses, caresses, and whispers.  He delighted in the completeness they both felt when Bard was near, and to just hold him, and feel the warmth of his skin, was truly a joy.

Finally, Thranduil stroked Bard’s cheek with the back of his fingers, kissed him, and got up.  “Come, _Meleth nîn._   I want to be ready when our _Tithen Pen_ wakes, and it is almost time to get the others ready for school.”

Bard propped up on his elbows and smiled.  “I love hearing you talk like that.”

Thranduil turned and smiled at him.  “Like what?”

“Like a Da.  Fatherhood looks good on you.”

Thranduil strode back to the bed and sat down.  “When Legolas and Tauriel were children, Mírelen or Galion did most of what you might call the ‘grunt work’ of parenting.  Now, I find pleasure in all the little things it takes to care for them: sending them to school in the morning, helping them with homework, and tucking them in at night.  My favorite part of the day is the evenings, when we sit together as a family and talk, or play games, or read.  I have never had that.”

“Really?  Not even with Legolas?”

He laughed.  _“Especially_ not with Legolas.  He did two things only: run, or sleep.  There was no leisure time when he was awake.  Once he was asleep in the nursery, though, Mírelen and I would enjoy sitting in front of the fire, and that was wonderful, but when we all gather at the end of the day, I enjoy just....being with them."

“Big families are great, aren’t they?  Noisy, too.”

“They certainly are that.”  Thranduil grabbed Bard’s hand ripped the covers back and yanked him out of bed.  “Now, get up.”

The Elvenking checked on Tilda, who was still fast asleep, then took care of his morning ablutions.  Bard was right behind him, and soon they were both dressed.

Thranduil went back into the nursery, and signaled to Esta, then took her in to the children’s apartment.  Bain was just waking up, but Rhys was dressed, so he and a guard took the dog outside.  Sigrid was washing up, and almost ready for breakfast, so after urging Bain to hurry up, the two Kings made their way back to their chambers, where Galion was coming in.

“Good morning, Galion!”  Bard said.  “What’s for breakfast?”

“Eggs, and sweet bread with butter, apple juice and tea.  It will be here in a few minutes.  Daeron is on his way with Tilda’s medicine, and to examine her, before he takes the children to school.”

There was a knock, then the door was opened for Daeron.  “Good morning, My Lords.  Is Lady Tilda up yet?”

“She sleeps still, but probably not for long.”  Thranduil said, as Sigrid came into the room. 

“Hello everybody,” she gave her fathers and Uncle Galion a kiss on the cheek.  “I’m starved.”

“So am I!” Bain said, coming in behind her.

“What unexpected news.”  His Da said, dryly.

“When is he not hungry?” Sigrid quipped.  “Come on, Daeron, let’s go look at Tilda.” 

So, the day began for the Royal Family.

Bard was brushing Tilda’s hair, when Thranduil entered the nursery again, followed by Galion.

“Good morning, _Tithen Pen!_   Some things arrived for you, from Erebor."

Tilda looked at the crate full of bundles.  “What is it?”

“Well, they are addressed to you, from the Dwarves.”  He set the crate on the floor, and carried the bundles over to her.  “Let us see what they are, shall we?”

Bofur had sent a special slate in a wooden frame, a pouch of thick sticks of chalk, Balin sent some coloring sticks and paper for drawing, Bifur sent a pretty mechanical bird, and Bombur sent a cake for the whole family to enjoy.

Thranduil held up the colored wax sticks.  “This is a fascinating idea, Bard.  I wonder if all the schoolchildren would enjoy these.”

“Do you think you could make them? Or just buy them from Dáin.”

“I shall write and ask.  The Dwarves might not have time, as they are busy restoring Erebor and helping Dale with supplies. They appear to be wax mixed with the powder base of the paints I use."

Bard took the cake and sniffed.  “That smells good, doesn’t it, Beanie?  Let’s hope it tastes better than his Ham and Bean soup.  Remind me to tell you _that_ story.”  Bard said, before he passed it over to Galion to put in the Dining Room.  “Oh, look, King Dáin sent you something too!  There’s a note…”

They unfolded the note attached to the box, and Bard read aloud.  

 

> _To the wee Princess –_
> 
> _Sorry to hear you were ailing, Lady Tilda.  Saw this falling from the sky and thought I’d catch it for you.  Hope it helps you get better soon, little lassie._
> 
> _Your friend,_
> 
> _King Dáin_

“What is it?”  Tilda asked.

“There’s only one way to find out, love.  Come on, then, open it.” 

Bard helped her lift the lid of the small box and they all looked inside.  On a bed of dark velvet lay small diamond pendant, on a silver chain.

“Look at how it sparkles!  Looks like he did catch a star for you, didn’t he?”

Tilda’s eyes grew wide.  “From up there?” she pointed up.

“Could be, Little Bean.  It sure shines like one, doesn’t it?”

Thranduil took the box, and removed the necklace.  “Let us see if this can outshine our own little star, shall we?  Lean your head forward _.”_   He fastened it around her neck and stepped back to see.  “You look lovely, _Tithen Pen._ ”

Tilda looked down, but could not quite see it.

“Wait just a moment.”  Soon Thranduil returned with his silver hand mirror, so Tilda could admire it.

“It’s pretty.” she touched it. 

“But not as pretty as you are, Beanie.” Bard kissed her hair. “I’ll help you write a Thank You note; would you like that?”

She nodded.

Soon, Galion appeared in the doorway with her breakfast on a tray. 

He sat down beside her, as Galion set the tray in her lap, and Bard put his hand over hers to help her with her spoon. 

“Come on, Beanie.  Eat some of this egg for me, okay?” He helped her spoon it into her mouth.  “We need to get you strong, so you can go running around with Esta, right?” 

The dog whined and wagged her tail. “See, love? She wants to run and play with you!”

She chewed her egg, and reached for some more. 

“Good Beanie!”  Bard managed to get her to eat most of her breakfast, and drink all her juice.  She also managed to eat the bread by herself, if he broke it up into small bits.

After the tray was taken away, Daeron came back in.  “My Lord, before I take the children to school, I have something for Lady Tilda, if I may.”

“Of course.”

Daeron sat down on her bed, and handed her a medium sized stuffed ball.  “Do you see how soft it is?  Now get your fingers around it… that is it.  I need you to squeeze this ball as hard as you can ten times.  Your Da or your Ada can help you count.  Do it with ten time with both hands, three times a day.  Could you do this for me?”

“All right.”  She took it, and tried to squeeze it. 

“Very good, love.” Bard said.  “So… let’s figure out the color.  Is it green?”

She squeezed it, again.  “No, it’s blue.”

“Yes!” Bard put his arm around her and kissed her hair.  “But it’s a good blue, isn’t it?”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s my girl.”

Daeron stood up and saluted.  “I will see you later today, Lady Tilda, you did very well.  I must prepare for afternoon lessons with the boys, so please excuse me, Lord Bard.”

Galion came into the nursery a few minutes later.  “The children are on their way to school, My Lords.” He smiled

Tilda reached her arms up to him.  “I ate breakfast.”  She smiled.

“You sure did.  Got your appetite back, have you?” Bard said proudly, as Galion gave her a hug. 

“What is this, Tilda?” the Aide asked, when he saw the ball.  “A new toy?”

She shook her head.  “I squeeze it.”

“That is a very good idea, _Tithen Pen.”_

“She even told us what color it was, didn’t you?  Can you tell us what color this is?”  Bard smiled at her.

They could tell it was on the tip of her tongue, and _she knew_ she had just said it.

Tilda suddenly burst into angry tears, and she threw the ball across the room, with a shriek.  Tilda sobbed so hard she winded herself, and Bard had to blow in her face to get her to breathe.  She inhaled, finally, but screamed louder, and began to pound her fists against her head.

Thranduil took her wrists to still them. “No, little one.  Do not do that.  It is all right.”  He gathered her to him, and rubbed her back.  “Come now... shh… It will be all right.  You have been very sick, and your body needs time to recover.  Your head became sick, too, so it also needs time to get better.” 

“I… want to… remember... things,” she gasped between sobs.  “Will I…  Am I s-stupid, now?”

It was like an arrow struck Thranduil’s heart.  _Oh, Valar…_   His eyes met Bard’s, as the Bowman’s eyes filled with tears.  He looked away and rubbed his hands over his eyes.  

“Oh, no, no, no, _Tithen Pen.”_   As his husband tried to compose himself, Thranduil continued to soothe their little girl, until she had calmed down.  “You will _never_ be stupid. I promise.  Like I said, _hênig,_ you must be patient, and very brave, until your body get stronger.”

“I don’t like it, _Ada.”_ she sobbed. “I d-don’t like it!”

Bard, who finally collected himself, rubbed her arm. “We know that, love.  You just need time to heal, and we’ll all help you.”

“I don’t like it.”

She was still hiccupping, so Thranduil handed her Charlotte, to help calm her down. 

“Of course, you get mad, Beanie.” Bard told her. “Daeron said you’ll just cry sometimes.  It’s just part of your head getting better.”

Thranduil smiled down at her.  “We are all going to make sure you get well. Uncle Percy always says, _“One foot in front of the other,”_ does he not?  That means to only worry about little bits of a problem at a time.  That is good advice, do you not think?  So, let us do what Uncle Percy says, and only think about today, all right?”

Tilda looked at him, still sniffling.  “Little bits.”

“That is right, so, we are only going to think about squeezing the ball, now.  Does that make sense?”  Thranduil reached for his handkerchief, and wiped her face.

Tilda nodded, and calmed down.

Bard got up and retrieved the ball.  “Here.  Show _Ada_ how you can squeeze it.”

She took the ball from her Da, and squeezed it, while Bard counted out loud.  Then she switched to the other hand, as Esta wormed her head under Tilda’s hand.  As she pet the dog absently, she repeated the exercise, but asked _Ada_ to count.  Just as she reached number eight, her eyes lit up.

“Blue!”

Bard and Thranduil grinned at each other.  “That is correct.  It is blue.  Can you say that again?”

“Blue.  Blue, blue blue blue!”  She grinned.  Her nose was still red from crying, but now she was laughing.  “Blueblueblueblueblue!”

As a reward, her fathers reached down smothered each cheek with kisses, to make her giggle some more.

Thranduil reluctantly got up.  “I am sorry, _Tithen Pen,_ but I must go.”

“To your…”

“My study?”

She shook her head.  “Your study.”

“Not yet.  Today, I must go to the barracks where some of the soldiers live, and where we keep our hunting dogs.  Daeron took you there, once, so you could see a dog like your father’s.”

Tilda blinked, as the wheels turned.  “She was big?”

“Yes, _Tithen Pen._   She is big.  And we have many like them.  When you are better, I will take you out there.  You will remember, when you see them.”

Bard laughed.  “Want to know a secret about my dog?”  He leaned in and whispered in her ear.  “He snores.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really?  Wanna know what it sounds like?” 

So Thranduil left his husband and their daughter, and he heard the delightful sound of Tilda’s laughter, as Bard showed her how loud Thangon really snored.

If Bard was going to tell her what happens when Thangon eats _Lembas,_ he was thankful to be out of the room.

 

As he walked outside toward the Army barracks, his heart was still hurting from Tilda’s outburst.  It was frightening.  She was happy, then she was sobbing and screaming…  Thank the Valar Daeron warned everyone, but still, it ripped his guts out to see her struggle so, and be so…frightened of herself!   Thranduil tried to convince himself that that was a good thing.  If she was aware enough to know that this wasn’t normal for her; if she knows that it wasn’t like this before, then maybe she has the potential and the determination to get back to where she wanted to be. 

All they could do was comfort her.  And wait.

It was wonderful how Tilda’s face lit up when she remembered the color of her ball; something so simple, but this morning it was a wonderful accomplishment. 

Then a thought struck him, and he made mental note to speak with Daeron and Bard about it.  If they could shape her rehabilitation around this, it could help their daughter immensely

It might work, and it might not, but it was worth a try.

 

***************

 

Bard cuddled with Tilda on her bed, and began to read to her.  It was a picture book from Thranduil’s library, with a wonderful story about a fiddle-playing cat and the man in the moon:

 _There is an inn, a merry old inn_  
beneath an old grey hill,  
And there they brew a beer so brown  
That the Man in the Moon himself came down  
one night to drink his fill.  
  
The ostler has a tipsy cat  
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;  
And up and down he runs his bow,  
Now squeaking high, now purring low,  
now sawing in the middle.  
  
The landlord keeps a little dog  
that is mighty fond of jokes;  
When there's good cheer among the guests,  
He cocks an ear at all the jests  
and laughs until he chokes.  
  
They also keep a horned cow  
as proud as any queen;  
But music turns her head like ale,  
And makes her wave her tufted tail  
and dance upon the green.  
  
And O! the rows of silver dishes  
and the store of silver spoons!  
For Sunday there's a special pair,  
And these they polish up with care  
on Saturday afternoons.  
  
The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,  
and the cat began to wail;

About halfway through reading the book, Tilda took her finger and traced the words on the page.  Bard smiled, kissed her head, and read a little bit slower, in case she could pick up some of the words.

There was a stirring near the bottom of the bed.  Esta had her head raised, and was wagging her tail at them.  Tilda smiled and patted the bed beside her.  “Here.”  Soon, Esta was snuggled under Tilda’s arm as they all looked at the pages together, and she pointed out the pictures to the dog.

 _A dish and a spoon on the table danced,_  
The cow in the garden madly pranced,  
and the little dog chased his tail.  
  
The Man in the Moon took another mug,  
and rolled beneath his chair;  
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,  
Till in the sky the stars were pale,  
and dawn was in the air.  
  
Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:  
"The white horses of the Moon,  
They neigh and champ their silver bits;  
But their master's been and drowned his wits,  
and the Sun'll be rising soon!"  
  
So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,  
a jig that would wake the dead:  
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,  
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:  
"It's after three!" he said.  
  
They rolled the Man slowly up the hill  
and bundled him into the Moon,  
While his horses galloped up in rear,  
And the cow came capering like a deer,  
and a dish ran up with the spoon.  
  
Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;  
Cthe dog began to roar,  
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;  
The guests all bounded from their beds  
and danced upon the floor.  
  
With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!  
the cow jumped over the Moon,  
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,  
And the Saturday dish went off at a run  
with the silver Sunday spoon.  
  
The round Moon rolled behind the hill,  
as the Sun raised up her head.  
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;  
For though it was day, to her surprise  
they all went back to bed!

 

“The End.” He said, and closed the book.  “Did you like that?”

“Mmm Hmm.” Tilda yawned.  “Like a song.”

Bard smiled.  “It sounds like a something Bofur would sing, doesn’t it?”

“Uh huh.  I have to pee.”

“No problem, love.”  He picked her up.  “Come on, then.  Do you feel strong enough to do it by yourself?”

“I think so.”

All was taken care of, and soon Bard was tucking her in.  “You settle down, and take a nap.  I’ll be at the desk in our bedroom, working, so if you need anything, just let me know.  After lunch, Sigrid and Hilda will give you your bath and change your bedding.”

She held her arms up and he hugged her.  “Love you, Da.”

“I love you so much, Little Bean.”

 

The rest of the day went by rapidly; Tilda had a good lunch, and worked with her blue ball again, and, then took her afternoon nap.

In the living room, Daeron met with Kings, Hilda and Galion, to discuss her progress and outline another part of his treatment plan.

First, Daeron outlined his program to help her physical recovery. He presented them with a chart, listing the exercises he wanted her to do, and asked them to record her repetitions and note any problems she might have.

“This can help us discover where she might need additional help, and this will encourage Tilda, as well, if she sees evidence of her progress.” He handed it to Thranduil.  “Every couple of days, show this to her, and point out places where she shows improvement.”

“This is good.”  The Elvenking looked it over, and handed it to Bard, so he could see, then told everyone what he had observed that morning. “I saw Esta do something this morning, and I want to ask you about it.  Tilda was getting frustrated and upset because she could not remember something, but the dog wanted the child to pet her, and when she did, her memory came back.  Do you think a mindless activity like that could stimulate her thinking?”

Daeron thought about this.  “Perhaps, if one part of her brain is busy, it may help her learn different ways to process what she needs to remember.  Esta, senses this, apparently.  I have been reading as much as I can about things like this, and the books say to expect setbacks; especially when she is stressed and tired.  There is no set schedule for a recovery such as this; it is a matter of taking each thing as it comes."

"So... at this point, _everything_ is normal."

"Exactly.  Each person is unique, and we must remember that, My Lord."

Then the Guard went on to another subject.  “I see that her classmates have made drawings for her, and Tilda would like to hang them up around her room.  This would be a good idea.”

“Oh, we’re on that,” Hilda said.  “Galion and I plan to hang a sheet on the wall, and pin them to it.  We’ll switch them around and hang up new things, too, so she’ll have different things to look at.”

“Another excellent idea.  I plan to meet with Mistress Bronwyn soon, so we can organize a specialized curriculum for Lady Tilda, in the weeks ahead.  She’s not ready for such things, yet.”

“This all sounds great, Daeron,” Bard said.  “Folks, do we have any other questions or problems?”

No one did, so Daeron left and everyone else went back to their duties for the day.

After dinner, Hilda went in to read to Tilda, and the rest of the family relaxed in front of the fireplace. 

“By the way; I saw the new pictures up there,” Bard said, pointing to the mantel.  “Nice.”

Thranduil smiled.  “The only one missing is you.”

“But you did draw me, remember?”  Bard smirked at him.  “You were in the picture, too, as I recall.”

“Where is that one, Da?  In Dale?”  Bain perked up.

“Yep.” Bard said, hiding his smile.  “I like it, _a lot.”_

“Where’d you put it?  In your room?”

Thranduil grinned, and reached his hand between them, and pinched Bard’s thigh.  Bard did his best to keep a straight face, and change the subject.  “How about we get out the Stratagem board?  I’ve been practicing with Feren, so let’s see if your _Ada_ can still beat me.”

Thranduil did win, of course, but noted Bard’s improvement.  Then Bain and Rhys settled in for their game, just as Sigrid came in.

“Hey Sig.  How’s Rhian and the baby?”  Bain asked.

“She’s good, and he’s growing like a weed!  I think we’ve got most of Old Ben’s things done, so they’ll be ready when he comes to visit next week.”

“I didn’t know Ben sent his things.”  Bard said. 

 “He didn’t!” Sigrid laughed.  “Tauriel got sick of looking at him with holes in his shirts and socks, so she marched into his room and grabbed everything that was looking ragged, and sent it.  He put up a fuss and tried to stop her, but Tauriel got her way, in the end.  What we couldn’t mend, we’ve gotten replacements for.” 

“That is kind of you, to help Rhian, _Iellig.”_   Thranduil put his arm around Sigrid, as she sat down.

“I like that she’s putting herself in charge of looking after Ben; it’s a good sign."  she asked.

“He’s a good man, and needs somebody like that, especially since his wife died, and Ulmo knows, that girl could always use more friends.”  Bard answered her.  “He told me they’d been worried about her for years.”

Sigrid smiled.  “Rhian seems excited about his visit, and can’t wait to show him the baby.   You should go visit her, Da.”

“Ada and I talked about that earlier, my girl.  Would it make her nervous?”

“It would help if Hannah were there. She’s doing better; she’s out of the apartment more, and yesterday, Daeron and Indis took her to the barns, to see the horses.”

“Really?  How was she with it?” 

“Rhian said she was nervous at first.  They showed her a really gentle dark mare, and the horse just kept very still, and soon, she was petting her nose.” Sigrid smiled.  “She likes the same thing I do; their noses are soft, like velvet.”

Rhys looked up from his game at Thranduil. “I’m reading the history book about Dale, My Lord.  I didn’t know it was you who wrote it!  Is it true you knew _all_ the Kings?”

“Yes, it is true.”

“What were they like?”  Bain perked up at Rhys’s question.

 “Some Kings were better than others, as is always the way of things, but all were exemplary in their own way.”

“What about Da?”  Bain asked.

“Well, I must confess a personal bias on that account, _Ionneg.”_ Thranduil smirked.

Bard snorted.  “I’ve hardly had a chance to see what kind of King I’ll be!”

Sigrid said, “You’ve been wonderful, Da!  Don’t sell yourself short!”

“You never know, though.  I could end up a drunken sot who winds through the streets singing lewd pub songs.”  Bard chuckled.  “Your poor Ada would have to try and keep me sober, or hide me in the cellar, until you can take over as King.”

“What lewd pub songs?” asked Bain, with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Never mind.” Thranduil said. “Pay attention to your game.  Rhys is about to beat you in three moves.”

 

***************

 

Once all the children were bedded down for the night, Bard laid his head on Thranduil’s shoulder, and sighed.

“I’ll need to meet with Ina and Iola’s guards, tomorrow, whether or not I meet with the ladies.” Bard gave his husband a wry grin.  “I need to apologize to them.”

Thranduil laughed.  “I am sure they would appreciate it, but the unit charged with guarding them, are also in charge of my dungeons.  This is not that much of a challenge to them.  They know how to handle prisoners and it takes a great deal to rattle them.”

“Really?”

Thranduil smiled.  “I think you will enjoy meeting them.  Dior, the Captain, is a good Elf, and friend mine and Feren’s and he has excellent insights into someone’s character.  He does not just keep prisoners, but he observes and lets me know who might be rehabilitated, or who cannot be.  Often, I will wait to pass down a sentence until after Dior has observed them for a time.  He has never been wrong.  He also has a wonderful sense of humor.”

“You’d have to, in that line of work.”

They sat in silence for a while, and watched the fire.

“Oh, Bard…”  He kissed his Bowman’s hair.  “Sometimes, I wish you had never become King; then you and the children could stay here with me, always.”

Bard chucked.  “Making me King was _your_ idea, love.  Anyway, I wouldn’t be happy with no real purpose to my life; I’d feel like your concubine, and I’d hate it.” 

“Will you hate it when you come here after Bain becomes King?”

“I’d want a real job here; something that would work to the good of our people.  But we've got years to figure that out.  I’ve got enough to worry about at the moment.”

Thranduil got up and held his hand out.  “Come, _Meleth nîn.”_

They both went into the bathing room, and undressed each other.  Bard looked over and saw the chaise lounge.  “Is that where you worked on Tilda?”

 “Yes.”  Thranduil sighed, as the memories of that terrifying night rushed back to him.  “That was –“

“…over.  It’s over.”  Bard took Thranduil’s face in his hands and said, “That night you saved our baby; that’s all you need to remember.”

“I love you, Bard.” 

Bard grabbed Thranduil’s wrist and led him over to the chaise lounge and lay him down.  “Let me give you some new memories, love.”  Bard reached for the oil in the basket on the table.  “Close you eyes, and feel how much I love you.”

After Thranduil cast a silencing spell, he closed his eyes, and gave into Bard’s kisses.   He could feel fingers stroke his cock, and cup his balls, before Bard inserted two fingers.  He groaned loudly, then he bit his lip and hissed, as he adjusted and opened for Bard.

Lips kissed and suckled on his nipples, and when Bard began massaging his prostate in small circles, he writhed, as the heat flowed through him, and he threw his head back and gasped.  “Oh, _Meleth nîn; Gellon n'i iuithog i lebir gîn…”_

Soon, Bard was over him, and entering him slowly.  Thranduil adored the look on Bard’s face, and watched his mouth grow slack, as a moan escape from the Bowman’s lips. 

He reached up and grabbed the back of Bard’s neck and brought him down for a long, deep kiss, and he opened his legs wide to bring Bard in even deeper, and gasped when he felt Bard shudder inside him.

Bard stroked Thranduil's hair from his face, and looked at him with love and wonder.  “You are the most beautiful sight, lying beneath me.  I can’t believe I get to be here, and do this with you.  Stars, you feel so good..."

“You are just as beautiful above me, with your warm eyes and a smile that melts me every time." Thranduil moaned softly.   _"Athog, Meleth nîn, puitho nin."_

Slowly, Bard began to move in him, and soon they were moaning and gasping.  Their eyes never left each other, and when their movements became more urgent, Thranduil took himself in hand, and began to stroke in time to Bard’s movements, watching how it excited his husband.  When they were at the brink of climax, Bard lowered his head, and whispered, “I love you so much; come with me, and we’ll catch each other when we fall.”

It only took five more strokes, and they both were lost.

They kept moving for a little while, to make the moment last, until Bard softened enough to pull out of him.   Then he and Thranduil took their time washing and drying each other off, before they got into their sleeping clothes and robes.

 

***************

 

Bard took their dirty clothes and put them in the basket of their dressing room, just he heard his husband call to him.

“Bard!  Come quickly; you must see this!”  Thranduil whispered softly, so as not to wake Tilda.

“What is it?  Is something wrong?”  He came out of the walk-in closet and noticed the lamplight from the nursery.  He went into the room, curious to see what the fuss was about…

There was his husband, looking down at their little girl, grinning.

“What is it?” he asked his Elf.

Thranduil huffed out a little laugh.  “You might think it silly.”

“Is it silly?”

“Perhaps, but it means a great deal to me.  Look.” He pointed to the bedcovers.  “Do you see?”

Bard looked, but didn’t know what he was looking for.  “I don’t understand.”

“You mean, you do not notice?”

Bard shook his head. 

“Look at her blankets, Bard!”  Thranduil pointed with glee.  “She kicked her covers off!”

Bard blinked, and finally noticed.  Tilda, was now lying on her stomach, with one leg drawn up, and the other straight down, and indeed, she had thrown her blankets off.   She had rolled over _by herself,_ and was no longer on her back, sleeping like the sick do. 

“You're right, love; I'm so used to seeing it, I didn't 'see' it.  I never thought I’d be happy to see her back to her old tricks.”  Bard reached over and gently tucked her leg in, and pulled her covers up.  “She’s normally a misery to sleep with.”

After kissing her cheek gently, Bard scratched Esta's ears, "Keep an eye out for our Beanie, yeah?"  The black-and-white sheepdog thumped her tail on the bed, before settling in.

Thranduil kissed Tilda’s hair as Bard dimmed her lamp, then they crawled into bed.  “I hated to see her lie so still and on her back; like a corpse.  I even begged the Valar to heal her, so she could go back to tossing and turning.  I even prayed that she could kick me again, at night." He sighed.  “I think I would miss that the most, if she had been taken from us."

“How often did she come in here?”

“A couple nights a week; more in the beginning.  Hilda warned me to expect it.  I wasn’t surprised, really.  Legolas would often become insecure, and sleep with us.”  Thranduil laughed.  “Either she’d come here, or Esta would wake me to go get her. When she fell back asleep, she nearly drove me mad.  She would walked up and down my back, or kick at my side.  One night I made the mistake of facing her and...” He shuddered.

 “Uh oh...”. Bard put his hand over his mouth and snickered.  “Got you good, did she?”

“I pester _you_ about your foul mouth, but that night, I recited your your favorites several times, before I could breathe normally.”

“Helps, doesn’t it?” Bard smirked, and jabbed him with his elbow.

“Do you make fun of me, Bowman?” Thranduil pounced on him, and straddling.  “I am glad my suffering amuses you so.  What if I were damaged, and could no longer ‘serve’ my husband?”

Bard laughed up at him.  “You’d have my sympathies.  I nearly broke my ‘Little Bowman,’ thanks to that monster you call a dog."

Thranduil made a face, and grabbed his pillow to smack him with.  “Did I hear you correctly?  Did you just say, ‘Little Bowman?’”

“Don’t you call your Elf Thing the ‘Elf Thing?’”  Bard laughed, holding his forearms up to defend himself.

“That is entirely different.”  The Elvenking said, and hit him with the pillow, again. “And what does Thangon have to do it?”

“Get off me, and I’ll tell you.”

So, Bard told him about the night he had a hot dream, woke up painfully hard.  Thranduil sat up, fascinated, with a grin on his face. 

“Ooh, _Meleth nîn;_ did you dream about _me?”_ the Elf asked coyly, as he traced his finger over Bard’s chest.

“No; I dreamed about Old Ben.” He said, sarcastically and slapped his hand away. “Stop fishing for compliments, you snooty-faced Elf, and let me finish…”

Bard recounted the events of that night, as Thranduil began to laugh.  “…and then, just as I was about to come, there was this giant, sloppy tongue all over my face!  Scared the shit out of me!  I screamed bloody murder and fell out of bed, still hard as nails..."

Thranduil had to grab the pillow and doubled over to bury his face in it; he was laughing so hard.  Once he could catch his breath again, he asked, “Your ‘Little Bowman’ did not break your fall?” 

“Hey!  Show me some compassion, will you?  I could’ve really gotten hurt, and where would you be, if I’d broken it, or something?”

“Alas; that _would_ be a tragedy. I do not want to contemplate how much that would hurt, but…” Thranduil doubled over in to giggles again, “I would pay to see you try to explain _that_ to the Chief Healer…”  And he was off again.

Bard just crossed his arms and looked at Thranduil sardonically.  “Go ahead, you bastard; enjoy my pain.  That wasn’t the worst of it, you know.”

The Elf finally recovered, and wiped his eyes. “How could it become worse?” 

“There I was, on the cold, hard floor, with that damned dog smiling over me  – so help me, that bloody dog was smiling!  Then I heard footsteps, and I barely got my cock back in my drawers before Tauriel and two Guards burst into the room…”

Thranduil, again, buried his screams of laughter into his pillow, and rolled on his side as his body shook. “Stop!" he cried, as he grabbed his stomach.  “I cannot breathe!”

Bard shook his head.  “I was hoping for a little sympathy, you know.”

“I am sorry… I… but…”  And Thranduil was off again, but this time, Bard was joining him.  “I knew Thangon would protect you, but…”  When he fell into another giggle fit, Bard smacked him on his rear end.

“I can’t believe I like that dog as much as I do.”  Bard said, as they finally began to settle down. 

Thranduil laid his head on Bard’s shoulder.  “So, you are glad I sent him to you?”

Bard heaved an exaggerated sigh.  “Aye.  He’s a good dog.  All the men like him, and he loves to go hunting with the Elves.  He keeps the bed warm, too, and really likes the feather pillows you sent.   I don’t know where you’re going to sleep when you're in Dale, though; you two will have to sort that out yourselves.”

Even after they settled down for the night, Bard heard occasional snickers from his husband. 

 _“Meleth nîn?”_   Thranduil was snuggled against Bard’s chest, and he pulled his arm closer around him.

“Want to laugh at my misery some more?” Bard kissed the back of his neck.

“No.  Well, yes, but…”

Bard smiled.  “What is it, love?”

“I know we’ll face hardship, as well as heartache, but it is all worth it.  Thank you for bringing joy to my life, again.”

Bard tightened his arms around his Elf, and threw his leg over him, protectively.  “You’ve brought just as much joy to me, love.”

They sighed, relaxed for several moments.

“Bard?”

“Mmmm.  What?”

“There is nothing ‘little’ about your ‘Little Bowman.’”

“Thank you,” Bard snuggled in.  “Now, shut up and go to sleep.”

 

***************

 

Once the children were off to school the next morning, and after they helped Tilda eat her breakfast, Bard and Thranduil were ready for the first meeting of the day.

“Are you ready?” He asked his husband.

“Yes, _Meleth nîn._   I am interested to see how this turns out.”

Bard and Thranduil walked across the Hall for their planned meeting with Ina and Iola’s guards. 

A knock was heard on the study door after about ten minutes.

“Come in,” Bard called.

Two Elven guards, entered, and saluted.  _“Suilad, Aran NÎn;_ _Brannon NÎn Bard."_

“Have a seat, please.”  Bard indicated to the chairs in front of the desk.  Thranduil sat to the side of Bard; the King of Dale was running this meeting.

“Lord Bard, this is Captain Dior, and his Lieutenant, Elion."

Bard nodded to them, then began: “First of all, I want to extend my sincere appreciation to you and your unit for looking after these two.  I didn’t relish inflicting anyone on your people like this, but I have seen reports from your King that you all have been conscientious in your duties, and have made sure they have come to no harm, despite their…  difficulty.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” Dior the brown-haired Elf on the right said. 

“So, tell me.  What has it been like?  What have these two ladies been up to?  I’d like you to tell me everything, and please don’t feel like you have to be polite.  I haven’t completely decided what to do with them, and your words here will have a great deal to do with my decision.”

The Captain began.  “My Lord, these ladies have not been anything we could not handle easily, though I will tell you, we have had easier assignments."  The Captain smiled.  "Your suggestion that we show them kindness is something we do as much as we can anyway.  If a prisoner can be kept calm, and feels like we have earned their trust, they are more apt to confess, or at least, give details.  We only use brute force when we must.”

“Are they still hateful and violent toward you?”

“It only happened once, at the beginning, but they are…quite verbal, My Lord. I am grateful King Thranduil granted our request for a silencing spell,” he grinned.  “The one called Iola walked up to one of my men, and raised her hand as if to slap him, but he towered over her, grabbed her wrist, and keep eye contact, until she slowly backed down.”

“I did read one report that said Iola has to be physically restrained from hitting her sister.”

“She does.  It happened more often, at the beginning.  As before, we grabbed her wrist and did not release her, until she became calmer.   In our line of work, My Lord, we find this an effective approach.  I think they have learned to respect us, to some extent.”

“Have they guessed that you understand them?”

Dior shook his head.  “No.  It is no difficulty.  We are Elves, of the Army of the Woodland Realm.  My unit is trained to only act; never react.”

Thranduil smiled nodded in proud agreement. 

“My Lord, it has been to our benefit that they feel they can speak freely in front of us.” Dior told them.  “We have ascertained much, with regards to the reasons for their behavior.”

Bard looked at Thranduil.  “Do I want to know what they were saying?”

The Captain laughed outright, and the Lieutenant smiled.  “Not all of it, I am sure, Lord Bard.  But you will be interested to know that the grandmother is has reconsidered their treatment of Master Rhys.”

“She has?”  This was interesting.  “What do they say?”

“Mostly that they were simply doing things the way their own father taught them.  This father has often been a topic between them, and it is increasingly clear that Ina no longer sees him the same.  Iola becomes very angry at this, and they argue.”

The King of Dale sighed.  “I’ve been made aware of some unpleasant things about him from Alun, Rhys’s father.  He was a real monster.  I’m pleased at least one of them is questioning that man’s practices for their own sake, but it doesn’t give excuse for causing those marks on the boy, or on their servants.”

The guards looked at each other and said, “We are in complete agreement, My Lord.  There have been terrible arguments between the sisters.”

“Tell me.”

“It seems that Iola was the one who inflicted most of the harm on the child, as if it were her duty to.  Ina only did this when she was forced to, and questioning her own actions and their father’s influence.  Iola will not tolerate such things, and screams at her.”

“Interesting…”  Bard sat back on his chair, and thought about this, for a moment.  “From what you’ve observed, do you think they’re capable of changing?”

“Of the two of them, I would say Ina might be, but it would take a long time.  Even then, I do not know to what extent.  Iola is much worse, and is given to unpredictable fits of anger, and, as we said, violence.  She is determined to idolize their father, and is incapable of considering anything less.”

“Those women have been traumatized throughout their childhood, with much worse than physical abuse.  Alun thinks they hang on to their denial, to avoid facing up to it." 

“That would explain much,” the Captain said.  “In my opinion, those women are damaged; particularly the oldest one, Iola.  They need to remain isolated, although I request  that you consider separating them.”

“You think so?”

“I do, My Lord.  I respectfully suggest you meet with them, and let us know how you wish to proceed from there.”

Bard got up and they all rose. “Thank you.  You’re doing a fine job, and I would ask that you continue to pretend you don’t understand them, until I say so.”

After the jailors saluted and left, the two Kings talked about it.

“I will see them, Thranduil.  In light of what Dior said, I think I have to, I’d like you to be there.”

“Of course, _Meleth nîn,_ you do not need to ask.  I will support you in whatever you decide.”

“Make it the day after tomorrow.  I need time to think over exactly how to approach this; we need to be very careful.  When we _do_ see them, I’d like them brought here by an intimidating escort of Guards, and I want them walked through the Palace with their hands bound, so they can see all the activity they’ve missed.  Do not permit anyone to approach them.  We’ll see them while Rhys is in his afternoon classes. Under _no_ circumstance do I want that boy to lay eyes on them.  Oh, and I’ll need a copy of Elénaril’s report, if you have one in Westron.”

“I do, of course, but why do you wish it, if I may ask?”

“I think they should hear every single detail of what she found.”

The Elvenking sighed.  “Bard, of course, I will give you anything you wish, but I must ask you not to do this.”  He looked conflicted.

“Why not?”

“When I took Rhys into the treatment room, I promised him that what Elénaril and I saw would never be revealed.  I have already broken that promise, when I sent you and Alun the reports, and I need to apologize to him for it, but I must ask you to respect the boy’s privacy.”

Bard looked at his husband intently, “Why would you do that?”

“Rhys was frightened, and full of shame.   It seemed the right thing, to convince him to get medical care.  He clearly was injured, and I could have forced him in there, but it would have humiliated and damaged the child, even more."

Bard nodded and blew out his breath. “I see your point.  You’re right, though; you’ll have to speak to Rhys when you think it best. He might be upset, but not as much as you fear, love.  We've moved on, and so has he.  If you want me with you when you tell him, I’d be happy to help.”

Bard stood, pulled Thranduil to his feet, and kissed him.  “We've got a couple of hours before lunch, the sun is out, and _Fînlossen_ needs some exercise.  Come on, love.”

The rest of the morning was spent outdoors on their stallions, as Thranduil showed Bard some of the area around his Palace.  Bard loved the forest in the winter; the sun was reflecting the ice and snow on each branch of the trees, making it all sparkle like jewels.  Both Kings held their heads up and absorbed the light from the sun, with closed eyes, as their horses walked along the path.

Thranduil took them to the Forest River, so he could see the icicles on the waterfall, and talked to him about the trees and animals he has known in that area. 

“This reminds me of being on the river, in the winter.  I loved to look at the snow and ice on the trees."

“Do you miss Laketown?”

“Not really.  I was born and bred on that water, and know it like I know myself, but I’m glad we're all in Dale now.  I’ve never felt that way about Laketown.”

“Really?"

“I’ve _always_ loved my people, Thranduil, but that didn’t mean I loved Laketown.  When we first came into Dale, I felt like I was… coming back to something.  I knew I was descended from Girion, and when we entered the city, I knew I belonged there."

“Your lineage was calling to you, _Meleth nîn.”_ Thranduil urged his horse closer.  “I hope you think of this forest is your home, too.”

Bard took his hand, and squeezed it through their soft, leather gloves.  “My real home, love, is _you.”_

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Gellon n'i iuithog i lebir gîn_ – I love it when you use your fingers

 _Athog meleth nîn, puitho nin -_ Please, my love, fuck me

 _Suilad, Aran NÎn;_ _Brannon NÎn Bard_ \- Greetings, My King; My Lord Bard,

 

DISCLAIMER:  I am not, nor ever plan to be a medical expert, with regard to Tilda’s condition.  Since this is Middle Earth, I feel free to craft her recovery in my own way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard spends the day with his people, and is reminded that even those with disabilities want to contribute. After lunch, he and Thranduil enjoy a nice visit with the youngest resident of the Palace.
> 
> Overall, it's a pleasant day, but remember that saying about the "Calm before the Storm?" I hope Bard enjoys it while it lasts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of my American friends: Happy Thanksgiving! No matter where you come from, we don't ever need an excuse to stop and be thankful for the blessings in our lives, do we?
> 
> Much love to you and yours, in the upcoming Holiday Season, and please keep in mind that love is the only thing that really matters...

****

 

 

 

**The Woodland Realm, 16 th of February; 2942, T.A.**

 

After the Kings put their horses back in the stables, they enjoyed  lunch with the children, and spent the afternoon working in Thranduil’s study.  Both had paperwork they needed to catch up on, and Bard especially wanted to go over progress reports from Dale.  It looked like Percy, Alun and Old Ben had things well in hand.   Then he opened the seal of his letter from Percy, and read:

 

 

 

 

> _To Bard, King of Dale:_
> 
> _If you’re worrying about being away too long, don’t.  There isn’t a man in this building who holds it against you for looking after our baby.   When Hilda and Thranduil wrote me the details, it nearly broke our hearts, and everyone here sends a good thought._
> 
> _If you’re also worried about Dale being vulnerable without you here, you needn’t be, either. King Dáin came over the other day to meet with Feren, and those two decided that it "just might be a good time" for their troops to practice maneuvers outside the City walls!   Clever, ain't it? Truth be told, both Feren and Dwalin were itching to put the folks through their paces, to keep them sharp, and let me tell you, it’s an impressive sight to see from the parapets!_
> 
> _You’re not missing much as far as building.  It’s slowed down, as we had some bitter weather, so we’re either finishing interiors or working on materials.  One of them big empty halls has been made into a workshop to saw up the logs and smooth planks.  Even if we can’t be outdoors as much, everyone’s got a job to do._
> 
> _Old Ben will be headed your way in a few days, so tell our Sigrid and Rhian to have his clothes and such ready.  You and Thranduil would have laughed to see our Tauriel, when she started grabbing his mending!  I was biting my knuckles to keep from laughing!  There he was, waving his hands around and telling her to stop it, and our little red-head just stood there, with the same look Hilda gets.  Alun and I couldn’t keep quiet when she demanded he hand over all his ripped trousers, including the ones he was wearing, or she’d take them off himself!  I thought his face would turn purple, he was so flummoxed!  I think he likes being fussed over.  Then she told him Rhian put herself in charge of looking after him, and he shut right up and smiled._
> 
> _Thangon wasn’t as upset as we thought he’d be after you left; he seems to know you had to go.  We’ve all been fussing over him, and he sleeps in my room, at night.  That first night, Tauriel tried to take him, but her cat kept beating on him, so your boy’s safer with me.  Feren and the others take him out hunting, so he’s getting plenty of exercise, and Tauriel likes to brush him at night, while he lays there, rolls his eyes, and moans. It's almost obscene._
> 
> _The tournaments proceed apace, in the Great Hall.   Bifur and Feren are neck-and-neck in the Stratagem Tourney, and Turamarth keeps wiping the floor with the Elves at darts. You’ll be happy to know his Westron is coming along nicely, and by spring, I’m sure he’ll be chatting you up just like his cousin does._
> 
> _Speaking of cousins, tell Daeron that we’re all grateful here for helping Tilda.  Thranduil wrote and told us all he’s been doing for our Little Bean, and we’ll never forget it._
> 
> _The Chief Healer's busy treating lots of colds.  It was bound to happen with so many in close quarters.  It’d be a lot worse, but for Emron's insistence that everyone wash their hands left, right, front and backwards.  As far as injuries go, he’s only got the usual smashed fingers from hammers, or splinters.  One Elf fell from the rafters in a house and broke his leg, but that was soon remedied, and he was back to work, good as new after a week, can you believe it?  A week! Elves..._
> 
> _The men and Elves that were too bad off to make the trip back in December are doing well, although I’m sure the Healer's told you that already.  Two of them are up and around more, but he won’t let them outside, just yet._
> 
> _Our Tauriel is holding up, and keeping busy; she’s like everybody else here, my boy.  We’re all missing our loved ones, be they in the Palace, or passed on to wherever Eru sends them._
> 
> _Folks from the Original Company pay her special kindness, when they come.  If you can believe it, Dwalin, is the one who helps her most, when she gets down in the dumps._
> 
> _“That lass is a warrior,” he says, “I ken what she needs.”_
> 
> _Then, the two of them go to that empty dining hall by our rooms and do some sparring.  They’re quite the spectacle, when they go at each other, and the ones who bet on Tauriel win just as much as the ones to bet on the Dwarf._
> 
> _I’ve already written to Hilda, but please give her my love anyway.  Tell her I’ll be along soon, to see my best girl._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Percy, Steward of Dale_

Bard smiled, as he folded up the letter, and looked over at his husband, who was reading.  “Did you get the report from Feren, yet?”

“I’m reading it now,” he replied with a grin.  “I'm pleased.  My troops are practicing by the West Gate, and the Dwarves are working before the Southern entrance facing the Long Lake.”  He finished reading the paper, then set it down.  “Tauriel tells me she’s working with Dwalin, and he’s a worthy opponent.” He looked at bit puzzled.

“Aye. Percy said that, too." Bard smirked.  "Whoddathunk?"  

“With so much to accomplish quickly, it is easy to forget that many are in mourning.  I am glad that she and Dwalin can find a way to work through it.” 

Bard shook his head.  “That Dwarf is not somebody I’d want to get mad at me, but he's got a soft spot for Tauriel, then it's all to her benefit.  He’s a good sort, really.  Once you’ve earned Dwalin's trust, he’d give his own head for you; he just doesn’t get mushy about it.”

Thranduil considered this.  “I agree.”   Then he finished putting his papers in a stack, and set them aside.  “Are you finished, _Meleth nîn?”_

“Just about, love.  I’ve just got this inventory to look over and then I can stop, for a while.”

“Good.” The Elvenking told him.  “Today is Bain and Rhys’s weaponry lesson, and I know you won’t want to miss it.  We’ve got some time, so we can visit Tilda, then go.  Sigrid will be in the Healing Halls, so we can stop and see her at work when we’re done with the boys.”

 

Later, Bard sat in the arena and watched Daeron and his assistants at work with the boys, and was impressed.  Daeron had them working with their practice swords today, and he could see Bain’s concentration and focus.  Some of the other boys were eager to plunge in, and had to be corrected, but not Bain.  He was not going to speed up his movements, until he was sure he had it exactly right, and seemed fine with practicing his forms, and positions as until they were not only perfect, but second-nature.   For a boy with an eager, enthusiastic personality, he was a bit surprised to see his calm demeanor and his patience with himself.  This was a side to Bain he’d never seen before, but Bard had a feeling more of this would emerge, as the boy grew into adulthood.  For all that Thranduil keeps saying Bain will be the best of Kings, it was exciting to see evidence of it.

Bain seemed to have an affinity with the sword, rather than archery, and many would be surprised to learn Bard was fine with it.  Every child should be allowed to pursue his or her own natural talents; not be pressured into fulfilling some sort of legacy.  All Bard wanted was for any child to be the best selves they can be.

After the weapons class, the two Kings took a tour of the Healing Halls, with Elénaril and Sigrid in tow.  Together, they sat and chatted with the patients, who were surprised and flattered, to have both Kings take an interest in them.  Bard was pleased to see how well his people worked with the Elves, and all seemed happy with his daughter’s work.  To Sigrid’s credit, she never demanded deference due to her station.  She never complained about the tasks given her, whether its pounding and grinding roots for hours, changing sheets or emptying chamber pots. 

Their children’s lives were on a good track, with bright futures ahead, and both Bard and his Elf prayed the same for their youngest, who was fighting her hardest to be herself again.

One foot in front of the other.

 

**The Woodland Realm, 17 th of February, 2942, T.A.**

 

Bard and Thranduil had another busy day ahead, but their schedule looked to be a pleasant one.  They helped see the children, Hilda and Galion off, then went to give Tilda her breakfast.

They were going to look after their daughter in the morning, then Tilda would receive care from her Auntie Hil and Uncle Galion in the afternoon, while Bard had meetings. 

“Come on, love; let’s work your hands.  Squeeze the ball for us.  One…Two…Three…” and all the way to ten. 

“Can _Ada_ count?” she asked, putting it in the other hand.

“Sure can, love.  Let me get him.”  he got up, and called to his husband, who had been sitting at the dining room table. “You’re up, _Ada._   The Princess awaits your presence.”

 “I am coming,” he said, and soon he appeared in the doorway to the nursery.  “I must wash and dress, first.”  Once done, he smiled and asked, “Shall I count in Westron, or Sindarin, _hênig?”_

She smiled.  “Sindarin.”

The Elvenking bowed formally to the Princess. “Your wish is my command,” and he sat on the bed.  “Let us begin, shall we?  _Mîn… Tâd… Nêl… Canad… Leben… Eneg… Odog… Tolodh… Neder…”_

 _“Pae!”_ Tilda squealed.  She smiled up at Bard, amazed at herself.

Bard’s heart gave a little lurch.  “Is that Ten in Elvish?”

“Uh huh!” 

“Very good!”  Both fathers rewarded her by blowing raspberries into her neck as she giggled and squirmed.

“You’re smarter than I am, Beanie.  Tauriel’s been trying to teach me those numbers for weeks, and I still can’t get them right.” He rolled his eyes.  I think she’s going to have to start beating them into my noggin with a stick!”

Tilda looked at him.  “Tauriel?”

Bard took a deep breath. _This is normal…  this is normal._

“Tauriel is Thranduil’s daughter and she lives in Dale, love.  She’s very tall, like _Ada._   She’s an Elf, too, but she doesn’t have light hair _._   She’s got long red hair, and wears a green uniform…”

Tilda sat back and looked at him, then Esta crawled up and pushed her head under her hand.

“I think someone wants you to pet her.” He smiled down at her.  “Go on, love.”

Once Tilda was petting the dog, Thranduil whispered, “Describe her again,” very softly.

So, he said it all again.

Tilda thought for a moment, then her face showed recognition.  “Her room is across from me.”

“That is correct, _Tithen Pen._   She lives in your Da’s Castle in Dale, and her room is right across from yours and Sigrid’s.”

The little girl said.  “My new sister.”

“She is, and she loves you very much.”  Thranduil smiled down at her.

Tilda looked up at her _Ada._   “Where is…” she got stuck. 

“Tauriel?”

She shook her head.

“Uncle Galion?”

Again, no.

“Beanie, if you can’t remember somebody’s name, try to picture them in your mind, and tell us what you see,” Bard suggested.

“He has hair like that.” She pointed to Thranduil’s hair.

“Oh!  You mean Legolas, don’t you?”

“Uh huh.”  She nodded. “Legolas.”

“Ah, well.  Legolas is _Ada’s_ son, and you're right.  He does have hair like him.”

“He’s a Elf. _Ada’s_ a Elf, too."

“Yes, _hênig.”_ Thranduil smiled.  “That is very good.”

“And so is…Tauriel.”

“That is also correct.  They are my own children, just like you, Sigrid and Bain are your father’s children, and together we make a family, do we not?”

The little girl considered that, as she stroked Esta’s head.  “A big family.  We have a dog.”

Bard laughed.  “Well, we have two dogs, and even a cat.  I have a big dog back in Dale, that _Ada_ gave me, and he gave Tauriel a grey tabby cat named Farien.”

“That’s a lot, Da.”

“Lucky I have a big Castle, then.”

“Where is Legolas?”

To Thranduil’s credit, he didn’t react, but gave their girl a reassuring smile.  “Oh, Legolas has gone on a long trip.  There were important things he needed to take care of.”

“Oh.  Da?”

“What, love?”

“I remembered, right?” 

“You sure did.  You remembered Tauriel and Legolas, and you remembered some Sindarin numbers, which is more than I can do.  Guess you’re a lot smarter than me, yeah?”  Bard gave her a hug, and kissed her hair.

“I am glad you did so well, _Tithen Pen,_ but now it is time to do your morning exercises to get your legs and arms strong again.”  Thranduil got up, and shooed Esta down to the floor, and folded her covers back.  “Let us begin, shall we?  I want you to get strong, as soon as possible, so you can ride a horse, and even maybe one of my Elk!  Would you like that?”

“Aye!”  Tilda said.

Bard rolled his eyes.  “Of course, you’d remember _that,_ with no trouble _”_ he said wryly.

“Pay no attention to your Da, Tithen Pen,” Thranduil said happily. “He is afraid of my Elk, but you are smarter than that. He is convinced they will eat you up, but Da is being very silly.”

Tilda’s face lit up.  “I fed them.”

“And you still have all your fingers.  Wiggle them for Da, so he can stop whining…   Very good. Can you wiggle them some more?”

Tilda smiled at Thranduil and wiggled her fingers, as Bard winked at his Elf.  Its a good excuse to work on her coordination, even if it was at his own expense.

 

Once they did her morning exercises, it was time for her nap, so they tucked her in, then went into their bedchamber.  

“In all the excitement, I have not thought to mention it, but, I want to show you something.”  Thranduil got up and went to his small desk.

“I meant to ask why you put a desk in here.  I thought you did no ‘Kinging’ in this room.”

“I do not.  When you left, I had this brought in, because I did not want to keep this in my study, and I work on it each night before I get into bed.”  He opened a drawer, and got out the box Bard had given him, and put it on the bed. 

“You don’t have to show me this, you know.”  Bard reminded him.

“I want to, Bard.”  Thranduil took the book out of the box, and after they both settled against the headboard, he said,   “This was hard, at first; I will not lie about that.  But it has been… a _wonderful_ thing to do.  As I sit  and write, I feel the happiness of those times, and I picture Legolas reading all this…”  The Elvenking leaned his head on Bard’s shoulder. “It is a gift for my son, but I did not know what a good thing it would be for me, as well.”

Bard put his arm around his husband and kissed his hair.  “I’m glad, love,” he whispered. 

“I plan to take you to see her paintings today, if we have time.  I also want bring her statue back.  It is sitting at the entrance to my Kingdom, by the main path.   But I would like your first glimpse of Mírelen to be here, in private…”

"I’d love to see her.”

Thranduil opened the book, and showed him a page near the beginning.  This sketch was much more detailed than the ones on the mantle.  It was a series of thin minute lines and dots that added reality to the drawing, with its intricate shading.  It was clearly evident it was drawn by a loving hand.

There she was.

She was relaxing in a chair, in a hall very different than the Palace; the architecture resembled the lines and curves of the bed Bain had slept in, from Rivendell. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, and onto her back in wide, graceful waves.  Long, graceful fingers held a book, and he could see her dark eyes consider the words. The sun was shining through a window on her left, and rested on her hair, and her cheek, as she read. 

Her ears were lovely, pointed accents against her dark hair, her cheekbones were prominent, and her brow was smooth. Her face while not smiling in the picture, was kind, and showed a keen intelligence and a quiet strength.  Bard had seen that face before; on the Queen’s tall, blonde son.

She was absolutely beautiful. 

“Oh, Thranduil…”  Bard breathed.  “I can see why you loved her.  It’s all there.  How do you do it?  You didn’t just capture her likeness; you’ve showed me what she was _like._   It’s like she’s in this room, sitting right in front of us!”

Thranduil looked at him, searching his eyes.  “You mean this, Bard?  Truly?”

The Elf seemed anxious for Bard’s…  what?  Approval? 

Yes he was.  It’s one thing to hear about Mirelen in the abstract sense; it’s another to see concrete evidence of someone who’d completely held his husband’s heart.  Thranduil was afraid Bard would feel threatened.  And maybe he didn't realize it, but Thranduil wanted Bard to care about her, too. 

“I mean it with all my heart.” He smiled at his Elf.  “This is lovely, and if she was as sweet as she looks here, you and your people were blessed to have her for as long as you did.  I find it hard to believe Legolas would still feel like his mother was a stranger to him, after reading about her life with you, and seeing all these pictures.  You’ve made her real, again; maybe for yourself, too.” 

Thranduil looked into his eyes, and swallowed.  “Thank you, _Meleth nîn,”_ he whispered, and took his hand.  “I am so glad you think this way.”

“How far along have you gotten?”

“I have not written since Tilda became sick, but when things calm down, I want to resume.  In the spring, I will send it with Gandalf to Rivendell.  Elrond can keep it for Legolas, until he comes.”

“Whoa, stop there; what’s that?” Bard said, as Thranduil flipped through the pages. There was a sketch of his wife, her hair all mussed and a frown on her face.  He laughed.  “What’s she doing there?”

“Oh, that,” Thranduil smirked.  “She hated mornings, and was always grumpy, until she had her tea and breakfast. In that picture, Legolas was still an infant, and did not sleep at night.  I wrote about that, too.”  Thranduil ran his fingers over the neat, flowing Tengwar script, that obviously described the drawing.

Bard shook his head.  “Her hair looks like mine in the mornings.” 

Thranduil looked at the picture.  “It does.  Perhaps that is why I like it so much.”

“So…you have a ‘type?’”  Bard winked at him, and nudged him with his shoulder.

“If you mean I am attracted to dark-haired, irreverent, mouthy spouses, I suppose I do.”

“Bet she didn’t swear as much as I do.”

“She had her moments.  But, no one swears as much as you.”

Bard kissed Thranduil’s hair. “I’m so glad you’re doing this, love.  If she was as wonderful as you say, her memory deserves to stay alive.”  Bard studied his husband.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Does this make you miss her, more?  You can tell me, if it does.”

Thranduil sat up straighter, and considered.  “Of course, thinking of these things, and writing them down brought up a lot of intense feelings, and not a few tears.  I had wondered, if I was doing you a disservice.” He looked at Bard, nervous to admit this.  “It became confusing to me, and I was afraid.”

“Go on; it’s all right, love.  Just please be honest.”

“As I wrote, my feelings about her became stronger for a while, then changed, in a good way.  I find that it does nothing to diminish my feelings for you, or my life here with our family.  “Doing this,” he gestured toward the pages, “seemed to... settle things even more and I feel good about it.  It's a way for me to tell her how glad I was to have been with her.  I think, now, she will be a source of memory, not mourning.  I love that you want her to be a part of us, and I want your Mattie to be, as well.  They are the unseen guests at our dinner table; and there with us, watching over us.

Bard and Thranduil regarded each other, then pressed their foreheads together.  “I'd really like that.” He told his Elf. 

“Perhaps, your children might like something similar about their own mother, someday.”

“That’s a good idea.  I’ll think about it.  If you want to work on it while I’m here, feel free.”

“Thank you for that, but…  I would like to do this privately.  I hope you understand.”

“I do.” He kissed the Elvenking’s nose and got off the bed.  “It's time for me to make my rounds, love."

“I will be here."

Bard made his way through the halls of the Palace and into the Dining Hall, where the children were crowded around the tables, working.

An Elven guard came up and saluted him.  “Good morning,” he said to the Elf.  “Where is Mistress Bronwyn?”  After the Elf pointed in her direction, he could see she was presiding over the table with the older children, so he walked over.

“Hello, all!” he said. “You’re hard at work, I see.”  

Bronwyn went to stand beside him, “Children?  How do we greet our King?”

At once, they all got up, and bowed and curtsied to show their deference.  He was tempted to tell the children not to bother, but part of their education was courtly etiquette and he didn’t want to undermine that.  His own children knew to observe courtesy in public, and he was pleased to see Sigrid and Bain do so, without prompting.

“Thank you all,” he nodded.  “May I come around and see what you’re working on?”

Bronwyn went with him, from table to table, as the teachers gave him brief summaries of the lesson plans.

“When we first came here, King Thranduil, Lady Hilda and I met, and we decided to group the children not only by age, but by ability.” She explained, and indicated to a group of tables on their right.  “These are the children who have been taught to read and write, My Lord.  “The table over there,” she indicated, “are for those who are still learning the basics, but you will be pleased to see how fast they are catching up.”  They continued to walk around, and Bard was pleased to see their level of achievement.

He was surprised at how many Elves were teaching the students, as well.  “Are the Elves’ lesson plans any different than ours?”

“No, My Lord.  All the teachers meet once a week, to make sure we are meshing well.  Some are learning Sindarin, yes, but _all_ are learning to read and write well in Westron.  What you see here, is only part of the instruction.  Since so many in Laketown had no chance at an education before this, we've got tutors that meet with one or two at a time in the afternoons, to get each child at the level he or she ought to be.  King Thranduil had requested every Elf who knew our language to assist, to get these kids caught up.” 

Bronwyn smiled proudly at him.  “Right now, it seems like chaos, My Lord, but by next year,  it will all come together, to begin the formal school in Dale.”

Bard was impressed.  “This is… amazing, Bronwyn!  You deserve a lot of credit for coordinating all this.  How do you do it?”

She smiled.  “Lady Hilda is a big help.  No one can put a plan together like she can!”

Bard couldn’t help but laugh.  “Now, _that_ doesn’t surprise me.  I'll never know how she handles it all."

“She’s a big reason why we are all doing so well, here.” Bronwyn agreed, easily. 

 “Are the kids happy?  How are they without their fathers?  Are the orphans having a hard time?”

“We keep them very busy, My Lord, and that helps.  They all struggle, to some degree, but we’ve got a few, who don’t know how to handle it.  Your children and Rhys keep a listening ear out for that, so we can help them.”

“Does it work?” 

“For the most part, it does, and we encourage the children to find ways to express their feelings, such as drawing, physical activity, or sitting around in groups and sharing stories about their Mams or Das.  We’ve had a few instances of bullying, but the offenders were sent to King Thranduil, who put the fear of Ulmo into them!” 

They both laughed for a minute, then Bronwyn became serious.  “The best thing the Elf King did was gather some volunteers from his Army to mentor those who need real help.  The Elf is paired with a child, to give them structure and support, and someone to talk to.  Those children learn ways to work off their anger and hurt, through military exercises, and through setting goals.  It’s been a great success.”

Bard grinned at her, “That’s bloody brilliant.  Hilda mentioned something about it, but after she said things were going well, I left her to the details.  Speaking of which, where is Hilda?”

“Lady Hilda is in the East Library right now, My Lord.  She meets with the Elven parents twice a week.

“Good; I want to see that.”  He bowed politely, and kissed her hand.  “Thank you, Mistress, for all your hard work.”

She curtsied, “It’s my honor, Sire.”

Bard and his guard made their way quickly to the library.  It was on the opposite side of the Palace from the Royal Wing that housed Thranduil’s own, more extensive collection of books and scrolls.

The Elven guard brought him to the door, where a large gathering of Elves and women were seated.  Hilda was up front, standing next to Elénaril and Hannah.  Elénaril was speaking about common childhood ailments, and their treatments.  The Elves were intently listening, and some were taking notes.

“Hello, Lord Bard!  So glad you could join us!”  Hilda had seen him standing in the doorway, and motioned for him to come in.  Everyone got up from their chairs and either saluted, Elf-style, or curtsied.

Bard nodded politely, “Thank you, everyone.  Do you mind if I sit in and observe?”

“Of course not, My Lord.” Hilda motioned for someone to get him a chair.

“Please, don’t let me interrupt, go on.” Bard smiled at the Elven healer.

So, Bard sat down, and listened to the lecture, and the question and answer session, afterward.  He was pleased with the keen interest of the Elves, and when he was asked to step up and say a few words, he told them so.

“First of all, thank you, to those who have opened your hearts and your homes to our children.  Whether you come to Dale and live, or stay in the Woodland Realm, from everything I see here, you’re committed to provide excellent care, while encouraging them retain their heritage as children of Men.  I value not only your kindness, but also your respect, for our race.  I’m impressed with your questions.  Lady Hilda has told about the mentoring program she’s begun, and I hear it’s going well.  

“We all have one goal, here: to see these children grow and thrive, so they can be a credit to themselves, their families, and all the Northern Kingdoms.  For our mentors, thank you for volunteering your time, support and experience to each family.  In case any of you are wondering if I mind whether these children stay here, or in Dale, I don't.  All I care about is that they're loved, well taken care of, happy, and productive.  No one expects an adoptive parent to give up their duties or vocations - each family is unique, and so is their situation.  King Thranduil and I understand this, and you have our continuing support.  Thank you.”

There was a nice round of applause, then Bard stayed to meet with some individual new parents.  Everyone asked about Tilda, and extended their wishes for a speedy recovery.

 When he saw a familiar elleth with auburn hair and a cute dimple, he made sure to greet her.

“Hello, ‘Lindë!  How are the girls?”

“Good morning, Lord Bard; they are well.  My parents are watching them, this morning.

“Ah.  Elven grandparents.  Do they spoil their grandchildren like Men do?”

She laughed.  “If you mean filling their tummies with treats and smothering them love, then it would seem so.”

“How’s Gruffudd?  What’s he up to?”

“He is with some of his friends.  The men get together once or twice a week to play cards or draughts.  It is good for him to get out; Feren and I encourage him to do this.”

“Is he feeling all right?  How’s his leg?”

“I think - “ she sighed, shook her head.  “I know his leg hurts him sometimes, and he enjoys the children very much, but I sense there is something bothering him, and I do not know what it is.  I have asked him, and he brushes it off.”

“I heard he wants to make sure the children don’t forget their parents.  Do you think he’s afraid of that?”

“On the contrary, I have encouraged him to share stories of them.  I plan to write them down, for when Alis and Dafina are older.”

Bard smiled at her kindness.  “Tell you what.  I’m headed that way, I’ll talk to him.”

“Oh, My Lord; I do not want to cause trouble – “

“’'Lindë, it’s no trouble.  These are my people, and this is my job.  Besides, I doubt it has anything to do with the care you’ve given him.  Sounds like it’s something else.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” She seemed relieved.  “We have grown to love him as much as the girls, and if there is something we can do to help him…”

“I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

 

Bard left Hilda and the parents, and went to the Visitor’s wing of the Palace, and spoke with several residents to make sure they were happy with things, which they were.  That didn’t surprise him.  None of them had ever lived in rooms as nice as these, with an abundance of good food, so, besides missing their men, they were pleased. 

Then he made his way to one particular room, where several gentlemen were sitting around tables and chatting.  Most of them were elderly, but some were younger, but too injured to stay in Dale.

After making the rounds and saying hello, he joined in a game of cards, and chatted with the men.  Whoever organized this was smart; there were no pubs here in the Palace, so this was the next best thing. 

Once the game was over (Bard didn’t win), Bard went to where Gruffudd was sitting with his pipe. 

“Hey there.  How’s life with your girls?”  He shook the man’s hand, and sat down.

“Couldn’t be better, My Lord.  'Lindë and Feren love ‘em like their own, and the little ones are thrilled.”

“How are you with that, Gruffudd?  Feren and ‘Lindë are, for all intents, their parents, now.  Does that sit well with you?”

The older man looked sad.  “We’re not meant to bury our children, My Lord. I miss my daughter like the air I breathe.”  He reached into his pocket and wiped his nose with his red kerchief.  “My son-in-law was a good sort, too.  But at least I’ve got the girls, and 'Lindë and Feren are wonderful to them, and kind to me.”

“If I may ask, do the girls say much about your daughter?”

“That’s the best part.  ‘Lindë’s keen to make sure the girls know who their Mam and Da were.  I want to share some things, so she can write them down, but I’m not ready to do that, just yet… if you take my meaning, sir.”  He wiped his eyes, with a sad smile.  “Some days are better than others, but still..."

Bard put his hand on the older man’s shoulder.  “It's always the way of things, yeah?  How’s the leg?”

Gruffudd massaged his stump.  “It aches, and some nights it pains me some, but ‘Lindë took me to the Healers and got some salve to put on it.  It’ll be months before I can get meself a new leg, but I get around on the crutches all right.” He changed the subject.  “How’s your own wee one?  She's on the mend, I hear."

“Thanks for asking; she’s improving every day, thank the Valar.”

“Good to hear.  That Elf of yours is real good to your kids.  He’s good to all of us.”

“I’m a lucky man.”  Bard grinned.  “Gruffudd, I came to see if there was something I could do for you."

“Oh, don’t worry about me, My Lord.  I’ve got no rights to complain.  I’ve got a comfortable bed, great food, and good company.  I could always use some ale, mind you. A man likes a drink or two in the evenings.”  He gave the King of Dale a mischievous wink.

“I’ll have a word with our host, and take care of that.”  Bard sat back steepled his fingers, and looked at him.  “So, you’ve got a comfortable bed, good food, and you seem to enjoy your time here,” Bard gestured around the room, “And yet…?”

“What?”

“Gruffudd, you risked your life, and sacrificed a limb to help save our people.  I owe a great debt, to you, and every man in this room.  Tell me what it is I can do.”

He cleared his throat.  “Beggin’ your pardon, My Lord, I’ve nothing to be unhappy about..."

“But?”

“It’s just that… I’ve worked hard all my life.  Kept busy from the minute I get up, until my head hits the pillow, at night.  I’m just... not used to bein’ fussed over like this.  It makes me feel old and useless, and I’ve got quite a few good years left in me, yet.  'Lindë is a blessing, really she is, but, I’m used to doin’ for myself, and she always likes to wait on me hand and foot.  She keeps sayin’ what you just did, about how much I deserve it, and I love her for it…”

“But you want to be useful.”

“It’s my way, My Lord.  I’m the same age as Lord Percy, and look at all he’s doing!   I’ve been injured, yes, but sometimes all that fuss makes me feel… _ruined_.  There’s got to be _somethin’_ I can do.” 

Gruffudd was absolutely right.  The men of Dale had never been slackers, and to spend their days sitting around, playing cards or being looked after like this could be discouraging.  They all needed a purpose.

Bard raised an eyebrow at the man and smirked.  “I'll bet a job isn’t as noisy than two little girls underfoot all the time.”

“Aye, you’re right about that, and no mistake." Gruffudd chuckled.  “My own Da used to say, _‘You love to see ‘em come, and you love to see ‘em go.’_ You’ll see for yourself, when your own grandchildren come along.  I love those two dearly, but few things can wear a man out, like grandchildren."  Then Gruffudd looked apologetic.  “I sound ungrateful, I know.  But this sitting around, like a doddering old man just isn’t me.”

Bard smiled at the man, and crossed arms.  “You’re right, Gruffudd, it isn’t you.  And I suspect all you men would feel the same way.  Don’t blame the Elves, though.  They simply see it as honoring you for how you suffered.  Many of them are grieving over their own loved ones, and maybe looking after you all, helps them get past their own pain.”

“Aye, that makes sense.”

“Try to also keep in mind, that we’re all learning about each other, here.  They haven’t had a chance to see how capable Men can be, even in the face of disability.  This is all kindly meant.”

“These Elves are very kind, I’ll grant you that.  And I truly enjoy 'Lindë and Feren.  That's why I feel so bad about complaining.”

Bard stood up, and put out his hand, “I’ll take care of this.  I appreciate your honesty, my friend.”

“I’m grateful, My Lord.  Best wishes to your family.”

“Thank you.”

 

It was time for Bard to return to their chambers for lunch.  He met up with the kids, as they were making their way there. 

“Sea Monsters!  What does the rest of your day bring?”

“Hi, Da!”  Bain said.  “We’ve got weapons classes this afternoon, then Sindarin lessons and writing in the Library.”

“Sounds like fun.  Are you as hungry as I am?  ‘Kinging’ is hard work.”

“Did you like what you found?”  Sigrid asked.  “How do you think we’re all doing?”

“I’m very impressed.”  He put his arm around Sigrid and kissed her hair.  “Are you going to the Healing Halls, later?”

“For a little while.  I’ve got Sindarin, and writing, too.  _Ada_ says now that Tilda’s better, I need to get back to my own studies.”

“He’s right, you know."

They went into the apartment, and saw that Galion had the table set.  “How are things here?” he asked the Aide.

“Tilda has just woken up from her morning nap, and Thranduil has gone in to see her.”

“Oh, good.  Boys, can you take Esta out for –“  Bard turned to Galion, “How long till the food gets here?”

“Roughly fifteen minutes, My Lord.”

“Thanks.  Let her get some exercise, then come in and get washed.”

“Sure, Da.”  Bain called the dog, and they left. 

Bard and Sigrid washed and gowned, then went in to see their little one.  Tilda looked especially happy to see her sister, who quickly carried the little girl to the privy.

Bard went over to Thranduil, and kissed him.  “Did she take a good nap?”

“She was up earlier than yesterday.  This is still fairly easy, because she is still weak, but it will be difficult when she begins to regain her energy.”

“Aye, you’re right about that.  I’ll be back in Dale, by then.”  Bard sighed.  “I was thinking; Daeron’s not going to have time to give Tilda the care she needs when she becomes mobile, plus all his other duties.  That’s a lot to ask, even if he could.”

“I agree.” Thranduil nodded.  “Tilda seems to get along with Meriel, so I was thinking of asking her to look after Tilda and work her through her physical exercises each day, and work with her as far as memory and schoolwork.”

“That’s a good idea.  I don’t want to just stick her with a stranger, and I don’t want Sigrid to take the responsibility.  Can Elénaril spare her?  Your Healing Hall is a lot busier these days, with all the children running about.  She may need her.”

“I do not know.  But we will ask Elénaril.  If she needs Meriel, she will say so, and she and Daeron can help us find someone else.  We will have things set up, before you leave, so you do not have to worry.  Thranduil assured him. 

 “Hi Da.” Tilda smiled, as Sigrid carried her in. “I’m hungry.”

“That’s good to hear, Beanie.  Let’s get you some lunch then.”  Bard called out to ask for her lunch, and to bring his in, too.

Soon, Tilda was fed, washed and her bedding changed, and Sigrid and Galion were beginning her afternoon exercises. 

Once that was done, Hilda came to spend the afternoon at the apartment, so they could get back to their schedule.  After seeing the children off to their afternoon activities, so Bard and Thranduil made ready to continue Their duties.

“How did your Council meeting go?”

“Very well, I think.  They were anxious for reassurance that our aid to Dale will not deplete the stores for our own people too much.”

Bard stopped him, with a worried look.  “Have we been doing that, Thranduil?  If you're own people are going without, just to take care of mine... I can’t let you do that.”

Thranduil put his hands on Bard’s shoulders.  “Peace, Bard.  It is the Council’s job to be pessimistic, and to consider every worst-case scenario.   I assure you, the reports all say we could feed you for years upon years.  I think many members of the Council are secretly pleased to have something to be anxious about.  This Palace as seen more upheaval and activity in the past few months, that it has for hundreds and hundreds of years.  They were getting bored.”

“Fine, but promise me you'll tell me if there's a problem with that." Bard said.

“Of course, _Meleth_   _nîn_.”  Thranduil smiled.  “If you like, sit in on a meeting or two, so you can speak with them yourself.  The experience would be good training for you.”

“I’d like that.”  The Bowman agreed, as they continued down the hallway.  “Is Daeron coming after weapons training, later?”

“He is,” Thranduil said.  “But he only has time for a quick examination.  He will be meeting this evening with her teachers.  We will know more about that, tomorrow.”

They arrived at the apartment, and knocked on the door.  

“Good afternoon, Lord Thranduil, Lord Bard.” Hannah said.  “Please, come in.  We’ve been expecting you.”  As she ushered the Kings into the living room to sit, they heard soft whispered and cooing noise from the other room.

The Midwife explained with a smile, “Rhian said to excuse her not answering the door; Darryn needed a quick diaper change.”

Bard smiled, “Babies don’t much care for the plans of Kings; all they want is to eat, sleep and poop.” 

Hannah giggled, and Bard laughed, when he saw Thranduil roll his eyes. 

“I wonder if my husband has ever changed a dirty diaper.” Bard teased him.

“I most certainly did.  I took care of Legolas, and I even changed young Darryn on the day he was born, much to Sigrid’s surprise.”

Just then, Rhian came out of the bedroom, carrying her seven-week-old son, who looked around with curious eyes, under a thick mop of dark curls.

“Here's our little man!"  Bard immediately got up to go see him. "Hello, Darryn; you've grown, haven't you?"

“Good afternoon, My Lord,” Rhian said shyly, looking down at her baby.

“May I hold him?”

“Of course.”  Rhian handed him over, and curtsied to Thranduil.  “Good afternoon, Lord Thranduil.”

 “Thank you for having us in your home.” Thranduil told her kindly.   “How are you, Rhian?” 

“Oh, my goodness, My Lord; this is your home!  Thank you for letting me have these rooms.”

Thranduil looked at her with a firm smile.  “For as long as you reside here, this is _your_ home, and you have the right to say who enters, and who does not.  Remember, Darryn is a citizen and my subject, as well as of Dale, so you have the right to all this.”

The girl looked comforted at these words.  “You’re very kind.  I’m not used to having a say in things, begging your pardon.”

“You’d better get used to it,” Bard said, as he sat with the baby and fussed over him.  “Sigrid was telling me how solid he was.  He’s a big boy; look at those legs.” He laughed at the child. “The last time I saw you, you were brand-new, and liked to sneeze at me.”

Just then Darryn gave the King of Dale a toothless smile, and cooed at him.  “He likes me!  See?  Don’t tell me that’s just gas, Thranduil.  I know a real smile when I see one.”

The Elvenking peered over and saw the boy.  “Human babies fascinate me.  They develop so rapidly; his face is so much rounder, now.  One does not want to miss a minute.”  He took the boy’s hand.  “He looks more and more like his mother." Darryn’s eyes moved from Bard’s face to stare up and Thranduil with intense blue eyes. 

“If that's the case, he'll be a very handsome man.  So, Rhian,” Bard nestled the baby in his arms. “Tell me how you’ve been.  You look wonderful, by the way.”

She really did.  Gone were the dark circles, the strained, unhappy expression, and the thin pale cheeks.  The girl’s face had filled out and her hair was shiny.  And she was smiling.  A shy uncertain smile, but nonetheless, it was evident that she was doing better.  Rhian was a stunner, and Bard had no doubt she’ll be turning heads everywhere she goes.  He sincerely hoped so; if ever there was a girl who deserved happiness, it was she.

“I _do_ feel much better, thanks to you, and King Thranduil’s kindness.  I take walks every day with Indis, and Hannah,” she turned toward the other women, and took her hand, “comes to talk with me twice a week, and it helps me, a lot.  I’m learning to read and write, and Sigrid’s been helping me take care of Old Ben’s things.  He’s been so nice; I want to look after him, like he looked after me.”

“I know he appreciates it, and he’ll tell you that himself, when he gets here.”  Bard told her, as he made silly faces at the baby.  “I know he’s anxious to see this little man.  You and Darryn are all he can talk about.  I’m glad Hannah's helping you write letters to him.  Old Ben busts his buttons every time he gets one.  You're going to have one besotted Grandad on your hands; hope you're ready for it."

“I can’t wait to see him!”  Rhian said, her eyes brightening.  “Indis told me he’ll be staying near here, where Alun and Rhys stayed.”

Bard looked to Thranduil, “Did you arrange this?” 

When the Elvenking nodded yes, Bard told her, “I think King Thranduil wants to hold your son.  Is that all right?”

“Of course, My Lord.” Rhian said.  “He’s real friendly, and hardly cries at all.”

When Bard handed him over, Darryn regarded the Elvenking thoughtfully, then grabbed a fist full of his hair, and gave it a good yank.  The baby chuckled his pleasure at this accomplishment, and tried to bring the lock of hair to his mouth.  Thranduil managed to disengage it just before the boy could chew on it.  Baby and Elvenking regarded each other with big smiles, as Thranduil waved his fingers in front of his face.  Darryn seemed to like this, and squealed.

“He doesn’t cry much?” Bard asked.  “Tilda was like that, thank the Valar, but my Sigrid was colicky.”

Hannah smiled.  “Oh, I remember!"

Bard smiled.  “I’ll bet you do.  Mattie and I couldn’t have gotten through that month, without you." Then he explained to Thranduil and Rhian.  “Hannah and Hilda helped bring all my children into the world.”

“That I did.” Hannah grinned.  “Lord Bard’s right.  Your friend Sigrid was a real screamer.”

Bard  laughed, then told the young girl, "It was Hannah's idea to go get my Da, to settle her down."

Rhian looked interested at this story.  “Really?” 

“It’s true, love.” Hannah told the girl. “Brand had one of those deep voices, and Sigrid loved it.  You wait till Old Ben gets here; his is low and gravely, and I’ll bet the baby will love him.  See how Darryn is watching Lord Thranduil when he talks?  He’s got a deep voice, too.”

They all watched Darryn’s mesmerized face, as Thranduil spoke nonsense to him, and the little boy was clearly fascinated.

 “I’d no idea.”  Rhian said.  “I know you and Indis told Daeron not to fix the squeak in my rocking chair.  I didn’t know what you meant, until I saw how the noise calms him down.  You know so much about all this...  What made you want to be a midwife?”

“Oh, I’ve picked up a thing or two, over the years.  Maggie, the old midwife, delivered all three of my children, and she saw I had an interest, and offered to train me.  I’ve been doing it ever since; it kept food on the table after my Martyn passed, Valar rest his soul.”  The woman smiled at Rhian.  “I helped your Mam bring you into the world too, you know.  You were my third birth, after Maggie died.”

“How many babies _have_ you delivered?” Bard asked. 

“Oh, Stars, who knows?  Been doing it for twenty years. I kept records of all the births I attended, but they’re a pile of ash, now.”

“How are our other expectant mothers?” Thranduil inquired.

“Doing just fine.  One’s due any day, so I’ve been watching her closely.  Soon our little Darryn won’t be the youngest in the Kingdom, will he?  The next one is due in about a month.” Hannah looked addressed the Elvenking.  “All the good food you’ve been giving us, helps make sure those babes will be healthy.  Bless you, for that.”

 “I’m proud of you, Rhian, for all your hard work.” Bard smiled at the girl.  “So, tell me; what do you think of motherhood?”

“Oh, I love him, so much!  He sleeps at night, now, and he likes everybody.  You should see him, when Daeron comes to visit; he was the first one my baby smiled at.”

“So, he’s been a good friend?”

Rhian nodded.  “He stops by when he can, but he’s very busy taking care of the Prince and Princesses, and teaching the boys in the afternoons.  I doubt we’ll be seeing much of him, while he looks after Lady Tilda.  Sigrid and I are becoming good friends; I like her a lot.”  Rhian became serious.  “My Lord, I’m happy to hear Lady Tilda is doing better.”

“Thank you, Rhian.  If it weren’t for Daeron, I doubt she’d even be here, now.”  Bard told the women.

“I don’t doubt it.  That boy’s a good egg.”  Hannah said firmly. 

“I agree.” Bard looked down at the baby, who was cooing in Thranduil’s arms, “What do you think, young man?”

Darryn looked intently at Bard, then expressed his approval by screwing up his face and loudly passing gas.

“High praise indeed.  I am sure Daeron will be honored by your compliment.” The Elvenking responded, with a smile.

The King of Dale rolled his eyes.  "If that's compliment, Darryn, you and my dog, will get along beautifully."

 

 

 

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard has a wonderful morning, which starts with a pleasant walk in the King’s Garden. The afternoon goes very differently, when he meets with the two prisoners, Ina and Iola. 
> 
> The clouds have gathered, and a terrible storm is coming... Thranduil does his best to support him, but how much can he really help? 
> 
> Has Bard reached his limit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING** Mentions of physical, emotional abuse, rape and incest.

 

 

 

**The Woodland Realm, 18 th of February 2942, T.A.**

 “Good morning, Galion.”  The Aide was getting the silverware and dishes from the sideboard, preparing for everyone’s breakfast.  “How are you?”

“I am well.”  He responded, as he began to set the table.  “Oh, no; you do not have to help,” he protested, as Bard took the stack of plates from the Elf and began to set the table.

“Galion, in times like these, we’ll _all_ work together.  And you’ll be taking a seat with us; too.  We need this family to be as close as possible, right now.”

The dark-haired Elf nodded.  “As you wish.  Have you checked Tilda this morning?”

“I’m about to.  Esta didn’t wake us, so she slept through the night.”

“That is such good news.” Galion smiled at him.

“It is,” he sighed.  “It really is.”

“If there is anything –“

Bard went over and put his hands on the Elf’s shoulders.  “You’re doing it, my friend.  You’ve been doing it since the beginning.  You prop us all up, and I’ve never been more grateful; I hope you know that.”

“Thank you.” Galion gave him a small smile.

“One question, though:  Who’s holding _you_ up?”

“Oh, do not worry about me.  Lady Hilda and I take turns ‘crying into our tea towels,’ as she puts it. We have our moments, then we get through them, much like you and Thranduil help each other.”

Bard studied the Aide’s face.  Galion did look careworn.  But, didn’t they all? 

“I’m going to see if Tilda’s awake, and take the dog out.”  He walked into the nursery, and saw Tilda on her side, snuggling with Charlotte, but Daisy had fallen on the floor, so he quietly picked up the toy, tucked it under the Little Bean’s arm, then snapped his fingers at Esta.

The dog leapt down gently, then they went into the big bedroom, where Thranduil was beginning to stir on the big bed.  Esta wagged her tail, as she jumped on the bed, and began to lick the Elvenking’s face in earnest. 

“Thank you, Esta; I am awake now.” Thranduil mumbled.

When Bard reached down to kiss him, the Elf said. “Mmmm… that is much better, although Esta runs a close second.”

“Ha, ha.  At least Esta doesn’t snort and fart, like Thangon does.” Bard ran his fingers through his Elf’s hair.  “You look tired, love.  Do you want to sleep some more?”

“I would love to,” was the reply, “but I need to get up.”  Thranduil stretched and began to rouse himself. 

“Keep a listen for Tilda, would you?  I’m taking Esta for a walk.”

“I will.  _Gi melin, Bard.”_

Bard leaned down and kissed him again.  “Love you, too.”

Bard grabbed his cloak, went out and spent some time walking through the King’s Garden, as the black-and-white dog ran around ahead of him, anxious for some exercise.

He went through the doorway, and began to walk the curved paths at a brisk pace, taking in the crisp morning air.  He looked around at all the covered flower beds, the marble statues, and the stone benches, placed intermittently along the path.  Most of the trees were bare; enjoying their winter slumber, and the evergreens looked like they were decorated in white frosting.  The bushes and topiaries had been wrapped in coarse fabric, to protect them during the cold months. 

Bard stopped for a moment and took in some deep breaths.  This place must be beautiful in the summer!  Thranduil and Mírelen’s wedding ceremony took place here, and it wasn’t hard to imagine why.  Compared to what he imagined this place was like, a simple ceremony in a tent in the middle of a refugee camp, seemed crude, but it really wasn't.

Bard and Thranduil’s ceremony had been a beautiful one, nonetheless, because they both understood what really mattered. Just as when he married Mattie, all surroundings fell away, and it was only Thranduil’s face he saw, as Gandalf spoke the words.  When Thranduil slipped his ring on Bard’s finger, he never took his eyes off him, and vice-versa.  His voice was soft, but full of surety, as his Elf pledged himself to him.  Bard didn’t remember speaking, but he must have; all he could see was Thranduil’s face; so full of love and gratitude and hope for the future.  Both had learned the harsh lesson, that love would not save them from heartache or tragedy, but their love could help them bear life’s storms together.

Gandalf had been kind to include the children in the ceremony, which was only right.  Bard smiled, as he recalled Tilda, who held onto Sigrid’s hand, as Thranduil told them they were his children now, and promised to love and protect them throughout their lives.  Her smile was enormous; the happiest he had seen her since the Battle.

And now, they were all a family.  In one sense, it felt new and exciting, but they all settled in with each other like it had been that way for years.  There was a sense of quiet surety about all their lives now, and that was the stuff that would carry them through whatever life would throw at them.

If his wedding to Thranduil in Dale had been sweet, their wedding night was…  he still couldn’t describe it, except to say it was the most exciting, fulfilling experience of his life.  Each time with Thranduil, he felt wonder at how much more he felt, how connected he was to his husband’s pleasure, and how it only added to his own.  He was so glad they waited and completed their marriage in Thranduil’s lovely bedchamber.  Something like that deserved special surroundings.

Bard wondered about the clearing that Thranduil had taken Mírelen too, for their first coupling.  If it was lovelier than this place could be, it was a special place, indeed, and he could see why he’d want to lay her down in flowers, with the sound of the waterfall in the background. 

That was a place very special to Thranduil and his memories, and Bard would never ask to see it.  Some things should be kept sacred and private.

Then, with a pang, he thought of his Mattie.  Was she happy, wherever she was?  She wanted him to find joy, here on Middle Earth, and he hoped she’d found the same. 

“I’ll always love you,” he said, to the cold air, wondering if she could hear him, or if the message could somehow be sent to her.  “I did what you said, and I love my life, now.  You’d be so proud of the children.  You’d be proud of all of us.”

 

He walked for a while longer, then whistled, and clapped his hands a few times. _“Esta!  Lelyë vi!”_ A few minutes later, the dog zoomed up, then sat obediently at his feet.

He scratched behind her ears.  “Did you have a good run?” he asked her, and as she panted happily.

Bard felt a pang of loneliness for Thangon.  He liked to grumble about his big beast, and it was true he was goofy, and he snored, and would eat _anything_ tossed in front of him, and occasionally caused rooms to be aired out, as a result.  It was also true that when he stretched out on the bed and snored, he looked completely ridiculous, but that did not mean he was stupid.

 

~o0o~

 

Thangon was, in fact, one of the smartest animals he’d ever seen.  His main occupation was, of course, to protect Bard, and so far, there had been little occasion to fear for his personal safety.  The closest he’d come, was when the two Dwarves rebelled and had to be brought before him. One of them was particularly angry, and made the mistake of stepping a bit too close to Bard.  

In an instant, Thangon was on his feet, with the hair on his back standing on end, as he lowered his body, and slowly made his way toward the Dwarf.  His lips were curled in a horrific snarl, and his growl was low, but menacing.  Even Bard stepped back with shock.  In that moment, only a Orc was more frightening than this animal, and his behavior was the complete opposite of his normal, laid-back, goofy self.

Bard had opened his mouth to correct Thangon, but Percy grabbed his arm, and put his finger to his lips.  So, they let it play out.  Dwarf and dog faced off for a several tense minutes, before the Dwarf lowered his eyes, and backed up.  As soon as he did, Thangon’s behavior was back to normal, and he went over to his master and plopped down at his feet, with a bored yawn.

After Dáin came and beat the tar out of the erstwhile Dwarves and sentenced them to privy duty at Erebor, Percy shook his head at Bard.

“If Thranduil was crazy to send Thangon here, he’s crazy like a fox.  Mark my words, that dog is going to save your life one day.”

Bard had no reason to argue with that.   All the men saw Thangon in a new light, and if it were possible to have more affection for him, they did.  That night, when Thangon took up too much room on the bed, and snored too loudly (again), Bard just smiled and forgave him.

 

~o0o~

 

Bard smiled down at the black and white sheepdog.  “I wonder how you’ll get along with my big boy,” he asked Esta.

Esta smiled up at him and barked.

“Oh, don’t worry; I know who’ll be wearing the pants in _that_ relationship, but please, no pups.  We’ve got enough on our hands, at the moment, yeah?”

Esta put her front paws on his leg, whined and wagged her tail.

“I know.  Time to go back to your patient.”  Before he reached the door to the palace, he took another look around, at the sleeping garden, to fortify himself for what the day might bring.  He heaved a sigh, and went in to see his family.

 

After breakfast, he walked with the children to school, then knocked on the door to Feren and Glélindë’s home.  He had matters to talk over with Gruffudd.

“Good morning, Lord Bard; how nice to see you!”  ‘Lindë smiled at him, as she opened the door to their rooms.  “Please, come in; welcome to our home.”

Bard nodded to his guard, who remained outside, Bard entered to find a comfortable, apartment, well-kept, in spite of the toys scattered around the living room.  Little Dafina zoomed in from another room to see who was here.

“Alis is back in school, but Dafina is here.  _Mallen_ _Ant_ , what do we say to King Bard?” 

"Dood morning, Yord Bard," Dafina smiled and tried to curtsy, but lost her balance and fell.

Before the little girl had a chance to get upset, ‘Lindë picked her up.  “That was a good try, do you not think, My Lord?”

Bard nodded his head regally, and kissed the little girl’s hand.  “You did very well, young lady.”

“Please, come sit down, My Lord.”

She led him into their living room, where Gruffudd was reading, with his leg on a stool.

“Good morning, Lord Bard.”  The man made to stand.

“Oh no; please, sit.  I need to talk to you, but first, I’d like to visit my young subject, here.”  Then Bard turned to the little girl, who sat on the couch, next to their mother.  “So, tell me, Miss Dafina; do you and your sister like your new home?”

“I yike it a yot!” Dafina smiled, and crawled off the couch to stand before him. _“Nana’s_  weal nice, an’ _Ada’s_  weal nice, an’ Grandda yikes his chair, too!”

“I can see that.  What does your Grandda like about his chair?”

She shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head in that charming way toddlers have, then she started to swing her arms back and forth as she talked.  “Oh, he smokes his pipe, and weads to me, and tews me ‘tories about my Mam and Da.  I yove dem, too, and I pway with my toys, and my sister yikes it here, a yot, too.  And," she added with a air of importance, "I got my own bed, too!”

“Your own bed?  That’s very grown up.”

Dafina just grinned and added little half-turns as she swung her arms.  “I sweep with Awis some nights, though.”  The she leaned forward to tell him a secret.  “Awis is in cwass now, but she’ll be here yater.”

“Lucky for you; that means you get your _Naneth_ all to yourself, right?  So, what do you do, when your sister is at school?”

“Oh, I yike to pway, and I make Grandda pictuwes, and I help _Nanaaaa..._ Annnd...I have pwaygwoup!” She threw her arms out wide.

Glélindë grinned.  “Lady Hilda has organized a group for the youngest children a few times a week, to play, and sing songs.  We Elven mothers come too, and we learn about things children like to do.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun.”  Bard agreed.

“Is your home weal nice, King Bawd?” Dafina asked him.

“I sure think so.  It’s almost as nice as yours, but I don’t have as many toys as you do.”

‘Lindë picked up the little girl.  “Come, _Mallen Ant_ _,_ let us go make tea for Grandda and the King.  I need your help.” 

After they left, Bard smiled after her.

“If cuteness could be sold, you’d be the richest people this side of the Misty Mountains.”

“Aye, she’s a sweet one.  They both are.”

Bard leaned forward and brought up the reason for his visit. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, Gruffudd, and there _is_ something you and your men could do for Dale.  We’ll have lots of new homes for our people to move into, but we need to start thinking of furniture.”

Gruffudd sat up straighter. “You’re right, My Lord,” he said hopefully.

“The original plan was to send lumber to Dale, and have them make it, but I think you and your boys can make some things here. 

“Such as?”

“We need bed frames, Gruffudd, and plenty of them. You can make them here, and they can be shipped to Dale in pieces.  That would free up the men’s time in Dale to build other things we’ll need.  I only want basic frames to hold the mattresses; no headboards.  Many of you will be setting up businesses and at least one of them will be furniture, so I only want things that can help Dale get started, and as our economy grows, our people can buy fancier stuff.  If you can get enough made, I'll have you start on benches, and such, too."

“Aye, we can do that.”  The man smiled.

“Good.  Get your men together, find out who can do what, and set it up.  I’ll let King Thranduil know what you’ll be doing, and he’ll meet with you to make sure you have what you need.”

“That sounds grand, but…”

“Oh, don’t worry.  Hilda and Thranduil will come here, to meet you and the men.”

“I thank you, Sire.  This Palace is awful big, and it’s a long walk for someone on crutches.”

“I’ll be a while, but you’ll be dancing on the tabletops sooner than you think.”  Bard winked, but then he was serious.  “Gruffudd, I’m glad you talked to me, and I owe you an apology for not considering you and your men.  It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be, My Lord.  Truth be told, there are still some of us who won’t be able to do much.  But the effort will make us feel better.  We none of like to be coddled.”

“I’d like you to encourage the men to be patient, and keep in mind we’re all trying to understand each other. It’ll take a while, my friend.  Just be patient.  If run into any problems, tell a guard, and he’ll get Hilda to help iron out any misunderstandings.  That’s part of her job.”

“Aye.  Thanks again, Lord Bard.”

“Hewe’s da tea!” said Dafina, as she ran into the room ahead of ‘Lindë, who was carrying the tray.

“Those cookies look good; did you help make them?” Bard asked the little girl.

She nodded her head vigorously.  “Aye!  _Nana_ and me tooked ‘em!”

“Really?  Do you like to cook?”

“I yike to hewp.  When _Ada_ tame, he hewped us make bweakfast for _Nana.”_

Gruffudd smiled at the golden-haired child fondly.  “Dafina makes sure I get enough to eat, don’t you, love?”

“Uh huh!”  She climbed into Gruffudd’s lap and smiled at Bard.

 

After enjoying a short chat with the tea, Bard got up and shook Gruffudd’s hand.  “Thank you for your service to Dale, and for your willingness to help.  I appreciate it.”

“’Tis my honor, My Lord.”

“Thank you, ladies for the fine tea.”  Bard said, as Glélindë, with Dafina on her hip, walked him to the door.

“By the way,” Bard said to Gruffudd, “Seems the Elves have some equipment to brew ale in the stores somewhere.  If one of your men knows how to do it, set him up to supervise; it’s not something Elves do a great deal.  I’ve sent for some casks of ale from Erebor, to tide you all over.  I’d like you to ration it, please.  It will last longer, plus I don’t want to see any reports of drunkenness from the men, or I won’t buy any more.  Is that a deal?”

“It’s a deal,” Gruffudd shook his hand, and grinned.  “Many thanks, My Lord.”

“You’re most welcome.  Bye, now.” Bard said as he walked through the door.

“Bye, Yord Bard!” said Dafina, with a cute smile and a wave.

 

Smiling, Bard went on to visit several of the Guilds, to see the women learn new skills.  He was pleased to see the eagerness with which the they wanted to learn, and the effort the Elves put into it.

He made it back to his family’s chambers in time for lunch, while Thranduil stayed in the nursery, to help Tilda eat her lunch. Meriel was scheduled to stay with her this afternoon.

After seeing the children off again, Bard went to see Tilda, who was finishing up, with Thranduil’s help.  Her plate was empty, and her glass of milk was almost gone.  Thranduil held his hands over hers, as she finished it.

“You ate a good lunch, Little Bean.  How do you feel?”

“Good.” Tilda said, just as Daeron came in, and announced he wanted her to try to sit on the edge of the bed, and even to stand for a few minutes.

The three of them worked together; Bard and Daeron held each of her elbows, while Thranduil stood in front.  She was able to sit up fairly well, but when they slowly brought her up to stand, and she began to put weight on her feet, she could only manage it for a second or two, before she listed to the left.

“Please do not worry.  This is what I expected, My Lady; you are doing very well.”

“I almost fell.”

“We will do this more and more, and you will become strong again.”  Thranduil told her.  “This the work you must do to get better.”

After a short visit, Meriel arrived, so Thranduil, Bard and Daeron left the room, and dropped their sterile robes.

As they walked into the living room, Bard asked, “Besides having her stand, how else can we help her?”

“Continue with her exercises, and once she is out of isolation, it would be good for her to begin exercises in the pool.  The buoyancy of the water will make it easier for her to stand, and walk."

“That’s a good idea; she’s always loved the water, so it’ll be fun for her.  We’ll have to see about ordering a bathing outfit for her.”

“Of course, _Meleth nîn._   I shall send the request to Taenya today.”

 Daeron added, “I wanted to tell you; Elénaril has given her permission for Meriel to oversee her daily care and her lessons.

“Excellent.” Thranduil said, and Bard nodded his agreement.

“Mistress Bronwyn and I have devised some exercises that will help her, memory and recognition. Meriel can be instructed to carry these out easily.  For this, I will need your help, Lord Thranduil.”

“How so?”

“I would like you to draw two sets of different objects and animals, on some cards, and color them. We can use them for different sorts of memory games and make it fun.”

“How many different things?”

“As many as you can think if, My Lord.  Animals, plants, flowers, and as many ordinary objects that she would see throughout the day, such as a chair, a candle, or a book.  When Lady Tilda is able to join you out here, make simple cards with the names of objects here in your chambers, and attach them to each item.  Try not to draw attention to them; just keep them up, and this will help Tilda, as well.”

Thranduil smiled.  “I shall get to work on them as soon as possible.” 

Bard could feel his eagerness to help, and smiled at him.  He despised the idea of leaving, but it’s true that this is the best place for her.  Thranduil was just as eager as Bard, to have their little girl back; they wanted her happy smile, and her giggle and her sense of wonder. 

Bard took Thranduil’s hand squeezed it.  “Thanks, love.”

One foot in front of the other.

 

*******************

 

That afternoon, Thranduil sat beside his husband who was, occupying the desk chair, again.  Bard, was sitting back, and steepled his fingers thoughtfully against his chin. 

The prisoners, Ina and Iola were sitting in the chairs opposite, with four guards standing behind them. 

There was silence in the room.  Bard was waiting, looking at each of them in turn, and had not said a single word since they entered.  This was making the women increasingly uncomfortable, and Thranduil could see their nervousness show in their posture, but, they knew not to speak, unless their King spoke first.

Oh, he loved seeing his Bowman exude such quiet power… Just look at him!  This was not something that can be taught.  When he saw Bard like this, he saw all the Kings who went before him; especially Girion.  He _was_ Girion; yet so much more, and not just because Thranduil loved him.

At last, Bard picked up one of the papers sitting on his desk, and began to read, oh-so-casually:  

 

 

 

 

> _“13 th of January; 2942, T.A_
> 
> _To the King of Dale…”_

 

Bard paused for a moment, then said sarcastically, “Now where is that paragraph…  Oh, yes! Here it is… 

 

 

 

 

> _'We have every right to demand satisfaction from the Princess Sigrid and Prince Bain.  They should fix this, but instead they became disrespectful._
> 
> _If they were my children, they would have gotten slapped, and I told her so, and I don’t mind telling you, either…'_

 

Then Bard looked at the women.  “Let me see if I understand this correctly…  you ‘don’t mind telling’ me that my children should be slapped, is that right?” Bard said, through gritted teeth.  “Well, ladies, here I am.  Tell me _to my face_ how you should be allowed to slap a Prince and Princess of the Realm.”  Bard sat back again and looked at the both of them.  “I’m waiting.”

Ina looked down at her hands, and Iola looked at Bard, with angry eyes, but said nothing.

“Perhaps you would like to see this?  To read it out loud?  Would that help?”  Bard asked helpfully, and held the paper up.  “This is only a copy, mind you, but every word you wrote to me is here.  Would you like to see it, ladies?”

Ina looked up at Bard for a moment, and shook her head.  “No.”

“No, what?”  Thranduil demanded.

She looked up at him in confusion.

“You sit here before your King.  You are also in my Realm, and I demand you pay your King all the courtesy he is owed.  Is that clear?”

Ina swallowed.  “Yes, My Lord.” Then she looked over at Bard, and sighed.  “I do not wish see the letter, My Lord.”

Bard continued.  “As you know, you have not just been imprisoned because of offenses to my own children.  In this letter, you freely admit to the abuse of your own grandson and great-nephew.  There have also been reports that you beat your former servants, Lynne and Mona.  What do you have to say for yourselves?”

Neither one of them spoke.

“You don’t recollect what you wrote?  Allow me to remind you, then: 

 

 

 

 

>  ‘ _Rhys is away from his father, thank the Valar, otherwise he would be a spoiled brat, too.  We’re taking the winter to make sure he is as disciplined as we were, which did us a world of good, I can tell you that! I don’t hesitate to cuff him about the ears, to make sure he behaves.  No matter what my son Alun says, that boy is going to be raised right, just like my father did me.’_

 

“Those are your words, are they not?” He looked at Ina, whose eyes were still cast downward, and nodded.

“You must answer out loud to your King.” Thranduil ordered.

“Yes, My Lord.  I did.”  The older woman said, in a flat voice.

“And Iola helped you with this?” 

Both Bard and Thranduil directed icy gazes into the sister.  “You admit you helped your sister write this?”

“It’s my signature on that letter, as you well know, My Lord.”  The woman spat out the last words with as much venom as she could manage. “She didn’t know what to say - Ina  _never_ knows what to say - so I told her what to write, and every word of it is the truth!”

“You admit beating your great-nephew, then?”

“I did nothing wrong.  The boy needed discipline.”

“Oh, and what did that boy do to justify all the welts and bruises on him?  Tell me!”

“That…  _child_ needed to have the badness taken out of him!  It was the only way!” Iola was so vehement, she actually spit, a little, when she talked.

Thranduil began to feel something ominous in his chest.  This woman was clearly mad.

 “What about you?” Bard directed a cold glance at Ina.  “Do you still think this way?”

The woman’s eyes filled, and she didn’t meet his eyes.   She looked weary.  “I don’t think so, My Lord.  I know you have no cause to believe me, and I understand that, but…  many things I thought I knew…things I believed were true and right…”  she swallowed again. 

“Ina…” her sister gave her a warning, in a low tone.

Bard ignored the sister.  “Now let us speak of your two servants, who both allege that you beat them, as well.  You wrote to me, demanding their return:

 

 

 

 

> _‘I demand the return of our servants immediately!  I will no longer work with Hilda, and if she thinks I’m going to do dishes or mop anything, she’s got another thing coming, I don’t care what that Elf King of yours says.’_

 

“You ‘don’t care’ what King Thranduil says?  Why is that?”  Bard asked, smoothly.  He showed no emotion, although Thranduil knew he was furious.  Despite the subject matter, he enjoyed seeing his husband in action, and could easily see him holding court in his own Kingdom, when the time came.

 “I…”  Ina struggled for words.  “I was…afraid.”  She looked at Iola, who stared back at her with her mouth in an angry, straight line.

“Oh?  Tell me what could make you so afraid that you felt justified to beat your servants?”

Ina looked at her sister again, nervously.  “I lost my home, and I lost everything I knew.  I didn’t know anything about cooking, or cleaning how to look after myself.  Papa would never allow us to learn those things –“

“Don’t you _dare_ speak against Papa!” Iola hissed at her sister.  One of the guards behind her grabbed her shoulder to make sure she stayed in her seat.

Bard addressed the woman sharply.  “You will not interrupt, do understand?  You will allow your sister to speak freely, or I’ll remove you!”

Iola looked furious, but she sat back and shut up.

“Ina, you will continue, and do not worry about repercussions from your sister.  Please go on.”

“My Lord, even when I was married, I didn’t do anything to look after myself.  My husband and I lived with my sister and Papa, and he wouldn’t allow me even to look after my own son.  After Alun was born, Alwyn wanted us to have our own home, but…” Ina was tugging and pulling at the handkerchief that she had pulled out of her pockets.

Iola’s look became even darker, and her fists clenched.

“But?”

“Papa threatened to ruin him, if we ever thought about leaving, and Iola wanted me to stay…”

“And?”

After a few moments, Ina admitted, “I was afraid, My Lord.”

“Of your husband?  Was he unkind to you?”

“No… but I was afraid.  Papa was good friends with the ruler of Laketown then, and I knew he’d make good on his threats against my husband.”

“Are you speaking of the Master?”  Thranduil asked, looked between her and Bard.

“No.” Bard told him.  “This Lord of Laketown was before the Master.  My Da said he was a halfway decent man, better than the Master was.”  Bard addressed Ina, again.  “Regardless of what Ioan told his daughters, I doubt the man would allow himself to be manipulated like that.”

Ina’s face was stricken.  “Papa kept saying Alwyn would have no job, and I didn’t even know how to look after them.  I…convinced Alwyn to stay, because I knew he was right.” 

Iola hissed, with her teeth clenched. 

“Silence!” Bard barked at the sister. 

“Ina,” Bard asked, “when did your husband pass?”

“Just after Alun reached his first birthday.  My husband finally convinced me to leave, and said we could go to my cousin’s in Bree.  He told me he had money saved, and it was all arranged, but then… he died.”

“How did he die?”  Bard asked.

“He drowned, My Lord.”

Thranduil and Bard looked at each other, each thinking the same thing.  “Do you think it was just an accident?”

Ina froze, and didn’t say anything for several minutes.  Then she swallowed, “I don’t know…”

Iola’s face was contorted with fury.  “You traitorous BITCH!” She shot out of her chair and leapt on her sister with a maniacal scream, her hands ready to claw here sister’s eyes out.

Before either King could react, two of Dior’s guards grabbed the woman and easily got her under control, dragging her over by the door and out of reach.

The guard looked to Thranduil for orders, then Bard leaned over to Thranduil and whispered in his ear.  “Tell them to hold the women here in Sindarin.  If Iola refuses to cooperate, I want her hands bound again.  I need to speak with you.”

After doing as Bard asked, the Kings stood up and went into Galion’s office and shut the door, as Iola continued to spewing words of frantic fury.

“My Lord?”  Galion looked up in alarm from his desk. 

“Please do not worry, Galion; there are four guards in that room; everything is in hand. We need to confer for a moment; out of their hearing.” Thranduil said.

“Of course.  Can I get you anything?”  Galion still did not look convinced.

“Yes.  Bring some fresh water, and a bottle of my strongest Dorwinian to my office; I think we might need it.”  Thranduil led him to Galion’s couch and sat down.

“Do you think Ina’s husband was murdered?”  Bard asked.

“It’s a possibility, but do not draw conclusions, unless you have clear evidence, or a confession, Bard.  That is something to always keep in mind, especially in cases like these.  Theorize, yes, but always be objective."

“Aye, you’re right.  I’m kind of learning as I go, here.”

Thranduil smiled and put his hand on Bard’s knee.  _“Meleth nîn,_ if this is you ‘learning as you go,’ then I eagerly look forward to watching you in court when you’ve had some experience.  You are a credit to all your forefathers, in there.”

Bard nudged him with his shoulder.  “Thanks.”

“Do you remember these women, in Laketown?”

“I knew _of_ them.  I was from the poorer part of town, and Alun is the same age as me, so I never knew Alwyn.  It’s true those two women hardly left the house.  I don’t ever remember meeting them.”

“Do you think Iola had anything to do with Alwyn’s death?” Thranduil asked Bard.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.  She’s… _off._    Maybe she or her father killed Alwyn, or both; I don’t really know.  Regardless, I’m done speaking to them together.  Please have Iola removed, and put somewhere out of the way.  I’ll send for her, when I’m ready.”

“Excellent idea, My King.”  Thranduil gave him a smile.

“I’d like to have Ina’s things moved into another set of rooms if you can spare them.  I want them separated, with no contact.  I don’t see how Iola can be good for anybody; least of all herself, anymore.”

Thranduil nodded, and looked to Galion.  “Can you see it done?  Take two of the guards with you, as they will know what belongs to her.  And speak in Sindarin.  We do not want the women to know what we are doing.”

“Of course, My Lord.”  Galion got up immediately and went into Thranduil’s study.

“Are you ready, Bard?”

Bard’s face became serious.  “No,” he sighed.  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to things like this."

“The day you get used to it, is the day you stop being a good King.  Never forget the weight of this, but you must be strong enough to carry out what needs to be done.”

“I have a bad feeling about this, love.  There’s something really ugly going on here, and I’d like you to stay close by, if you could.”

“Anything you need, Bard.”  Thranduil took Bard’s face in his hands, and kissed his brow.  “I’ll be by your side; today and always.”

They each let out a breath, then returned to Thranduil’s office and sat down again.  

The Elvenking gave orders to Iola’s guard to take her away, then addressed the woman in Westron. “I have ordered my guard to bind you, but if you do _anything_ to disturb the peace in my Palace, he will gag you, is that clear?”

Dior’s Lieutenant, an Elf named Elion, moved forward to rebind Iola’s hands in front of her, and just for good measure, pulled a grey kerchief from his pocket, to show her he was ready to follow through. 

Soon, Iola was gone, Galion brought the drinks, and Ina remained in front of Dior, cowed.

“Since King Thranduil is now Rhys’s legal guardian, it’s only fair that he be given an opportunity to speak.”  Bard nodded to Thranduil.  “My Lord?”

Thranduil’s demeanor turned icy. “Regardless of the remorse you appear to be feeling now, I have something to say about condition I found your grandson in.”

Ina nodded and swallowed, but didn’t say anything.

The Elvenking continued.  “I was with your grandson throughout his medical examination.  I saw _every single_ mark, and _every single_ bruise.  I have lived through this entire Third Age, and I have seen more horrendous things than I could describe; things I would not wish on anyone, except an Orc.   So, believe me, when I tell you, the condition that boy was in, was one of the most despicable things I have ever seen in my nearly four thousand years on Middle Earth!”  The Elvenking pounded the desk in fury. 

Ina cringed, shaking.  Her arms instinctively crossed in front of her and she lowered her head, to deflect a blow she seemed sure was coming.

Bard gave Thranduil exchanged a meaningful look.  One question they had, was just answered.  Ina had been badly beaten, herself.

Then he said, “I’m going to ask you some questions, and you _will_ answer truthfully.  King Thranduil is the most powerful Elf in the entire Woodland Realm, and he will know if you are lying.”

Thranduil’s turn to be surprised, but impressed.  This was a clever idea.

“Was it just you who beat your own grandson?” Bard asked.

“No, My Lord.”

 “Who was responsible for more of the beatings, you or Iola?”

“Well, Iola, but it was just as much my fault; I should have stopped her.”

“Why do you think you should have stopped her?”

“Because… I began to feel like it was wrong, and I didn’t protect him.  It was my fault.”

“Did you beat your son, Alun?”

“Yes.”

“Alun grew up in your father’s house, is that correct?”

“Yes.  I’ve lived there my entire life.”

“So, Alun was with you?”

“Yes, but servants looked after him, and Papa was in charge of him.”

Bard didn’t say anything for a few minutes. 

 “Tell me; when you and your sister were young, did you ever spend any times with friends, outside of your house?”

“Well, no, My Lord.  Papa taught us at home, and he wouldn’t let us go out and play.  He said other children were filthy, and would make us sick.”

 “When you beat your son, did you do it of your own volition, or was it your father’s idea?”

“He told me Alun had evil in him, and I had to take care of it, just like he got rid of the bad in me.”  Ina looked at them with dull, blue eyes. 

“I see.  And when you beat your grandson, what role did your sister play?”

The woman sighed.  “I am… I am to blame for my own actions.”

“Yes.  You are to blame.” Bard did not sugar-coat it.  “Let me ask something else: what would Rhys do, to make you beat him?”

“Iola kept saying the same thing Papa always said; that there was evil in him.  Sometimes she would drag him out of bed in the night, because she said Papa came to her in a dream, telling her to get rid of the evil.’”  The woman’s voice toneless and matter-of-fact. 

With every word that came out of Ina’s mouth, Thranduil could see her absorb the enormity of her actions, and it wasn’t a pleasant sight.  He didn’t quite feel pity for her, but he was beginning to lean in that direction.

Bard thought for a few moments.  “I want to be sure I understand.  Your own father beat you and your sister, and would not allow you to have friends, and he barely allowed you to leave the house.”

A long silence, then, “Yes, My Lord.”

“If you never went anywhere, how was it that you came to be married?”

“Papa brought him home, one day, and said I was to marry him.”

“Was Alwyn ever unkind to you?”

“No, My Lord; never! But after Alun was born, he… just didn’t want to live with Papa and Iola anymore.”

“What did Iola think of your husband?”

“She didn’t like him in the house, but she didn’t say anything.  We always did what Papa said.”

“He would beat you only when you disobeyed him, then.”

“No, My Lord.  He said the Valar told him things they’d found in our souls, and they wanted him to save us, so sometimes he would have to hurt us, to make the badness go away.”

Bard sat back, and took a deep breath, with a look of dread on his face.

Thranduil watched him carefully.  He was calm, and in control, but through their bond, he felt a trepidation and revulsion, that matched his own.  Instinctively, he knew Bard was about to ask questions that he didn’t want to ask, and they would receive answers that they didn’t want to hear.

“Ina, did your father show you any affection to you?  Ever?”

The woman shut down even more, as she retreated into herself.  “Yes,” she whispered, as she found a spot on the wall behind them, to look at.

“Can you tell me what kind of affection he would show you?”

“Sometimes, at night…in my room…Papa would... He said he was being... nice.”  Ina whispered, looking into her lap with shame.

Thranduil took a deep breath, and his toes curled inside his boots.  What she was hinting at was _unthinkable_ amongst Elves! He was vaguely aware of this type of thing; one couldn’t be as old as he was and not hear stories about this, but he’d _never_ faced this up close.

This didn’t excuse the treatment of Rhys or the servants, but _nothing_ excused the father’s treatment of these two women, either.

Bard sighed and said very gently.  “I’m going to ask you something, Ina, and you must tell me truthfully; do you understand?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Is Alwyn the father of Alun?”

Ina’s face turned ashen, and Thranduil’s stomach roiled, and did his best to control his surprise at Bard’s question.  That honestly had not occurred to him.

“Ina?”  He heard Bard ask again.

The woman’s eyes closed, and she shook her head, ever so slightly.

“Did you father arrange for you to marry Alwyn because you were already pregnant?”

“I…know what you’re asking.”  She paused for a very long time and stared off into space, again.  Then she opened her mouth, and said in a lifeless voice, “Papa said it was a secret, and I was to tell no one.  He told me it was the Valar’s will, and that it was a sacred thing, to carry his child.”  Her face was as frozen as the rest of her, but a tear rolled down her cheek, unchecked and unnoticed.  “Papa said Ulmo himself came to him in a dream, and told him I had to marry, to protect the secret.”

“You say your father brought Alwyn home for you to marry?”

“Yes, My Lord.  He worked for the Lord of Laketown then, and Alwyn was a footman at the manor.”

“Did Alwyn know the child wasn’t his?”

“Yes.”

“How did he feel about that?”

“Papa told him I had… gotten into trouble with another man, who deserted me.  He didn’t know the truth of it when he married me.  But he… was my friend, My Lord.” Ina’s voice broke.  “He was the only friend I ever had.”  The tears continued to flow, but she sat still, and didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.  “I couldn’t…  I mean, we never…”

“Did your husband mind this?”

“No.  I had a hard pregnancy, so the midwife said no marital relations until after the babe was born.  Then after…  I…” She said, in eerie, matter-of-fact tones.  “I couldn’t…  We tried, but…  I couldn’t do it.  He was so kind about it…”

“What made him want to take you away from your father’s house?”

“He…” Ina’s voice hitched, and she swallowed.  “Alwyn said he’d no idea what Papa was really like at home, because he seemed to be such a good man, when he was at the manor.  He guessed the truth about the baby after a while, even though I’d never said a word.  He told me one night that he _knew,_ and he didn’t make me feel ashamed at all…  He was so gentle, My Lord.  I _wanted_ him to be…  I pretended to myself that he _was_ really Alun’s father.  Alwyn cared for me, and he adored Alun; he really did, My Lord.  And…when I was with him, I felt safer.  I slept better, because he protected me from…”

“Did Alwyn ever tell you why he agreed to marry you in the first place?”

“He said he liked me when he met me, and saw I needed someone. He felt that he could grow to love me.  We did love each other, the best we could.” 

Thranduil gave Dior a quick order in Sindarin, and the Guard stepped over and poured the woman a glass of water, which she accepted gratefully. 

“Tell me about how your husband died.”

“He wanted us to be safe, and for Alun to grow up in a good, kind house.  I told him about my mother’s cousins in Bree, and we agreed it was far enough away from Papa that we could have a real life.  Alwyn had the boat ready, and the carriage was going to meet us on the shore to take us there.”  Her lip trembled.  “We kept it a secret, but three days before we were supposed to leave, Alwyn was found floating in the lake; he had drowned.”

Thranduil had never seen a child of Man in this state.  The woman could be a statue; she was so still, so frozen.  The only indication that she was even human were the tears falling down her face, and the words coming out of her mouth.  It was a haunting sight.

“Did you ever wonder if your father guessed you were trying to escape?”

“I…  didn’t dare think on it.”  Ina was still frozen.

Thranduil could understand Ina’s hesitation.  In that household, the truth hurt, in more ways than one. 

Bard leaned forward and put his elbows in the desk.  “I’m sorry, Ina, but I have to ask you this.  Do you think it’s possible that your father, or your sister, killed Alwyn to keep you in that house?”

The woman began to shake, and her faced turned grey, before it quickly became green.  Dior barely manage to get the waste can in front her, as Ina became violently ill.

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Esta!  Lelyë vi_ – (Quenya) Esta! Come! (lit. “we go!")

  _Mallen Ant -_ "Golden Gift,"  Feren and Glélindë’s pet name for Dafina

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For so many sufferers who face accusations of "why don't you just leave?" and are judged harshly for that, there is a very powerful explanation. "Learned Helplessness" is a real phenomenon that happens to victims of domestic violence:  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Learned_helplessness
> 
> It's incumbent up on ALL OF US take the time to understand these things, rather than jump to conclusions, in order to feel comfortable.
> 
> If you are a victim of domestic violence, please seek professional help. For those in the US, If you are in immediate danger, call 9-1-1. For anonymous, confidential help, 24/7 , please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) ...


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard continues to learn more of the horrors that was Ina's life. He struggles mightily with it, despite Thranduil's support and encouragement. Even his family did their best to cheer him up.
> 
> Maybe tomorrow will be better.
> 
> Maybe.

 

 

**TRIGGER WARNING**   Mentions of physical, emotional abuse, rape and incest.

**The Woodland Realm; 18 th of February, 2942 T.A.**

 

Never in a thousand years did Bard think he’d feel sorry for the woman sitting before him. 

But there it was; Ina was a victim, just as Rhys had been.  She still was culpable for her actions against the boy, there was no doubt about that, but there was so much more to this story than simple abuse.  The real demon in this whole thing was Ioan, Ina’s father.  He’d started a chain reaction that still was being felt through three generations.

Sadly, Alun had been even more a victim of that vile man, though he’d no idea the extent to which that monster had damaged the man’s life.

It was one thing to think of such things; it was something bigger and tangible to actually hear the words, and it slammed into the brand-new King, and made him feel helpless.

 _Please…  I don’t know how to handle this…  I need your help…  I feel like I’m drowning, and I can’t…_ Bard closed his eyes and prayed, as he listened to the woman retch into the waste can, from stress and fear.

After Ina was done being sick, Thranduil sent the can away to be cleaned, and some bread and mint tea were brought to settle her stomach. 

“Are you feeling a little better?”  Bard asked, after she had nibbled on the bread and drank half of the tea.

She nodded her head.  “I’m sorry for that, My Lord.”

“Don’t worry about it.  Are you ready to answer more questions?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

So, Bard continued the interrogation.  “Do you think it was true, Ina, that your father had to ‘beat the evil’ out of you?  Do you think it was right that he acted this way to you and your sister?”

Ina’s lower lip trembled.  “No.”

“Do you believe that it was right that your father forced you to have sex with him?”

A tear fell, at this question. “My Lord, I stopped believing that, when I was twelve years old, but  I had no choice.  I didn’t know anything else, until I married Alwyn.”

Just saying and hearing those words out loud made Bard sick to his stomach, and he felt his skin crawl.  He was glad Thranduil hadn’t reached out to reassure him.  He couldn’t have borne it now.

“Tell me; how do you feel about your son and your grandson’s abuse now?”

For the first time since Ina had been brought before him, she showed real emotion.  The woman buried her face in her hands, and began to sob.  “I’m…  I’m a monster, too…  My father turned me into a monster.”  Then she couldn’t speak anymore.

Bard saw Thranduil hand over his handkerchief to her, and nod to Dior, who put a comforting hand on her shoulder, as she cried it out, which she did for a long, long time. 

Through their bond, Bard could feel his Elf send him reassurance and love.  He was grateful, because he really needed it to stay calm.  Bard felt new strength flow through him, and the nausea and knots in his stomach began to settle down.

Once Ina had calmed, Thranduil asked her, “Do you still feel sick?”

“No, My Lord. It’s much better.” As she wiped her face.

“Could you take some wine?  It will help to settle your nerves, I think.”

She nodded as she dabbed her eyes.

The Elvenking got up and poured her a generous glass of wine, and gave it to her.  “Small sips; it is very strong, but I think you need it.”

“Thank you.”

She looked completely defeated; a pale, hollow vessel.  Yes, she had committed terrible crimes, but this woman had every chance at love and happiness snatched away from her, and destroyed, right before her eyes.  This woman was about Hilda’s age, yet she looked elderly from being so beaten down.

 _Oh, Valar…_ Bard sent up a quick, silent appeal to the heavens for guidance. _How do I cope with this?  What do I do?_    He was in over his head, here, and he knew Thranduil could be of no help.  He doubted Thranduil had ever encountered anything like this.

After she had drank some wine, Bard began, again.  “I’m sorry, but I must ask you more questions.   Are you up for it?”

She took another sip and nodded.  “Yes, My Lord; I want to.  I can’t cover things up anymore.  I just… can’t.”

“Did Iola ever find out about Alun’s true parentage?”

“No.” 

“Are you sure about that?”

“If she had, she’d have blurted it out, during one of her rages.  She hasn’t said a word about it.”

“And no one else knows?”

“Everyone who ever knew, is dead, besides me.”

Then Bard asked.  “Your father forced himself on Iola as well, didn’t he?”

“Aye.  After I became pregnant, Papa never touched me again.”

“Do you think he was afraid of you becoming pregnant again?”

“I don’t know.  I… can’t think on it, too much.”

“I’m assuming your father continued his abuse with Iola.”

“He was always worse with her.  She’s four years older, so when I was young, she’d get him to beat her first, so he wouldn’t hurt me so bad.”

“That was very courageous of her.  What about later?”

“He was cruel to both of us.  When I married, all the beatings stopped, which is why I think Iola accepted Alwyn in the house.  Papa didn’t want my husband to know our secret, because Alwyn could tell the Lord of Laketown.  But then… Alwyn drowned, and Papa was worse than ever.”  She sighed.  “Iola was different after that.  She was just as controlling of me as Papa was, from then on.  Even after Papa passed away, she wouldn’t let me out of her sight, and took over Alun.  I’d been hoping things would be better, after Papa died, but...” Ina’s voice broke, and she had to wipe her eyes, again.  “I couldn’t predict what Iola would do, I couldn’t get her to see reason.”

And you sister beat Alun, or made you do it?” 

She nodded.  “Alun ran away from home when he was thirteen, and I didn’t try to stop him or get him back.  I was relieved he was gone.  I’m sure he thinks it was because I didn’t care about him, but really, I wanted him to be safe.  When I heard Alwyn’s parents took him in, I was happy for him.”

“How do you feel about you sister, Ina?  Please be honest.”  Bard probed, with a soft voice.

Ina’s eyes filled with tears again.  “I feel confused.  I have hate for her, but she… protected me, My Lord, when I was small.  After Papa would hurt me, she’d look after me and put salve on my back.  When she could, she’d hide me in one of the cupboards in the kitchen, when Papa got angry.”

“Would you have harmed Rhys, if you sister had not put you up to it?”

“I feel so ashamed, My Lord.  I should have been strong enough, and I just…wasn’t.  And I allowed things to happen that can’t be taken back.  It’s my fault.”

Bard could feel his chest contract, and he sensed Thranduil was the same, and they both struggled to keep their composure.

Ina looked at the Kings with pleading eyes.  “Please… judge me all you want.  It was my son and my grandson who were hurt, and I didn’t protect them, like I should have.  But, please, be merciful to my sister; she’s just so… _wrong_ inside, and hasn’t been herself for a long, long time.”

Bard crossed his legs, and studied the woman for a few minutes.  “I think you’ve given me all the answers I need, for now.  Captain Dior’s reports coincide with everything we’ve seen and heard today.”

Ina was stunned, and she looked up at Dior, who nodded at her, then back at Bard.  “He can understand us?”

“Yes, and so can the rest of your guards.”  Thranduil told her.  “You said nothing that contradicted their report, and that is a good sign.   They have kept me abreast of your change in attitude as well as your sister’s increasingly erratic and violent behavior.”

Bard then said, “Sadly, Iola’s been twisted and broken by what she has lived through, and she’s a danger to herself and others.  This is beyond your ability to cope with, Ina, so I am separating the two of you.”

“But My Lord, I’ve always – “

Bard raised his hand to silence her, and looked into her eyes intently.  “Ina, can you tell me with _absolute certainty,_ that Iola had nothing to do with your husband’s death?”

The woman covered her mouth, and her eyes filled, again.  After a moment she shook her head.

“I’m sorry.  I can’t allow you to be endangered like this.  You need protection, and Iola needs to be protected; mostly from herself.  You can no longer be of help to her; you must learn to look out for yourself.”

Dior looked down at her with compassion, and placed his hand on her shoulder.  He supported her, as Bard went on:

“Ina of Dale: from here, you are to be taken to the Healing Hall, where I’d like you to submit to a complete physical examination, and any bruises or other ailments can be healed.   After that, Dior will escort to your new rooms, and there you will remain, until further notice.  We’ve already moved your things to new quarters, so all will be ready.  You will be under guard, yes, but they will now communicate with you in Westron, and I’m going to ask King Thranduil to assign someone to give you counsel and serve as a companion, under Dior’s and Elénaril’s supervision.” 

He looked at her with sympathy.  “Ina, have you _ever_ lived without fear?  I’d like you to learn what it’s like to feel safe, and at peace, although it will feel strange at first.  Someone will be talking to you, to help you adjust.”

Ina looked frightened.  “Will I see my sister?  I don’t know what to do without her.  I don’t know how to do anything…”

“I’m afraid you can’t, but it’s not your fault.  It’s clear she is violent and dangerous, and we can’t allow you to be in harm’s way.  We’ll do our best to keep her safe, but I need you to understand that her care is out of your hands.  I don’t know how much she can be helped, but we’ll do what we can.”

“But I’ll be alone!”

“I know it might feel like that, but with help, you’ll adjust.  Please understand; this wasn’t your doing.  She’s in a bad way, yes, but she’s dangerous, and that’s not something you can fix for her, however you might want to.”

Ina tearfully nodded.  “I understand, My Lord.”

“Do you have any more questions?”

“Will I be allowed to see Rhys?”

“I’m afraid not.  For now, you are to have no contact with him or his father.  If you choose to make use of the chance I am giving you, we will revisit this matter at another time.  Allow some time to pass, and for things to settle down.  Then, it will be up to your son.”

Bard then looked at his husband.  “Is there something you’d like to add, Lord Thranduil?”

Thranduil turned to Ina, “Your grandson, Rhys has been living with our children in the Royal apartments since he was removed from you.  I do not believe he has been permanently affected by his experience. Your grandson is a happy, well-adjusted boy, with a bright future ahead of him.  I hope that gives you some solace.”

Ina’s eyes filled with tears, and she whispered, “I’m so glad.”

At a nod from Bard, Dior took her elbow, and gently helped her to stand. 

“Don’t bind her hands; she’ll cooperate.” Bard said, before Thranduil added something in Sindarin. 

Just before the Guard reached the doorknob, Bard said, “Ina?”

She turned around.  “Yes, My Lord?”

“Your son, Alun, is man of intelligence and integrity.   He has not only earned my respect and friendship, but all the men in Dale see him as a man of quality.  He currently has a very responsible position in my administration, and he’ll be a valued member of my Council, for years to come, if the Valar allows.  You have every reason to be proud of him.”  Bard could see the woman’s eyes shine at these words. 

Then he continued.  “Your father has caused enough damage, and I don’t see a reason for any more pain to be inflicted.  If your husband, Alwyn, was as kind as you say, then as far as everyone else is concerned, he is your son's father.  You have my solemn vow as King, Ina of Dale, that your son will never know of his blood parentage.”

“You have my vow, as well.”  Thranduil put his hand to his heart and bowed his head.

Everyone turned to Dior, who made a similar gesture.  “My King’s word, is mine as well.  Not a word of this will ever pass my lips.”

Ina’s breath came in deep gasps and she turned to approach them.  Bard nodded at Dior to allow it, and he got up and walked around the desk to face her.

She sank to her knees, and kissed his hand, crying.  “Thank you for your mercy, My King.  Alun and Rhys are blameless in all this, and I just want them to be happy.”

Bard put his hand on her bowed head, and blessed her saying.  “As your King and ruler, Ina of Dale, I order you to never speak of this again once you pass that doorway.  Take the chance that you have been given, and see what you can make of the rest of your life.  Go in peace.”

Dior helped her up, and they quietly left.

 

After they were alone, Thranduil poured them some wine, and the two Kings sat in silence for a long time, in utter shock. 

Bard shook his head, and struggled to wrap his mind around everything he had just heard, but he just couldn’t absorb it.  All he could do is hope and pray he’d handled it well, because when it comes to something like this, one’s best meant so little.

Still looking off into space, Bard sighed. “I don’t know how to prepare for things like this.  Things seemed simple, when we sent for them, and now…”

 _“Nothing_ can prepare a King for that, Bard.  This is not something Elves have ever dealt with.”

“My heart just…hurt, listening to it.  It still doesn’t feel real.”  He sighed, again, and closed his eyes.  “I don’t think I can handle interrogating Iola, today.”

“Please do not be angry, but I have already given orders to cancel her interview.  The hour was growing late, and I did not want to chance the children seeing either one of them on the walkways.  There was no opportunity to confer, with you, so I assumed.” 

Bard opened his eyes, and looked over at his husband.  “Thank you.  You’re right; I’d prefer it if we could talk first, but there was no opportunity; you did the right thing.  I don’t want any of the kids seeing them.

“I do think Iola is insane, Bard, and I do not think anything will bring her back.  If Gandalf were here, he might know of something, but I doubt it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Bard, if anything could be done about healing a mind, Gandalf and Elrond would have done so, with me, centuries ago.  If this were so, we could heal all the emotional pain from war; and no one would suffer nightmares.”  He gave Bard a sad smile.  “It would be nice, would it not?”

“Oh, Valar, I’d love to know I’ll never suffer another dream about that damned Dragon.  I still think I should talk to Iola.  That way I can tell myself I tried.”

“I agree, but I doubt you could reach her.  I am convinced she murdered Ina’s husband, possibly to prevent Ina from abandoning her.  She may have been desperate at the thought of being alone with her father.  It makes me wonder if she had anything to do with her father’s death, as well.”

“I’ve been through a lot, Thranduil, and you’ve seen and endured much.  How could all that compare to a lifetime of physical and emotional torture at the hands of a father, who was supposed to love and protect you?”

After a few moments, his Elf said, in a very quiet voice, “It cannot. Betrayal makes everything so much worse.”

 _Stars, this was horrible…_  Bard blinked back tears, and emptied his cup.  “I can’t sit here anymore and think about this.”  He got up and gathered up his papers.  “Can we write the reports later?  I can’t do this now.”

“Of course, Bard.”

“Thank you.”

After they closed the door to the study, Bard looked at the door leading to the garden. “Thranduil?  Do you mind going without me?  I need… some air.”

“Do you want me to go with you, Bard?”  Thranduil offered.

“I’m sorry…  I need to be alone for a little while.  I just…”

Thranduil kissed his brow.  “Take all the time to you need, _Meleth nîn.”_   He turned to head off the children coming down the hall, and corral them into the Royal Chambers.

Bard quickly ducked out, and walked the same paths he had this morning, and tried his best to digest the dichotomy of this day. 

This morning, when he was visiting with Gruffudd, and watched little Dafina play on the rug, he thought Kinging couldn’t get much better than that.  He felt the same, when he saw Dale’s children be educated, and then visited the Guilds and envisioned the future industry of his Kingdom. 

Merely hours later, he learned just how bad Kinging could get. 

Bard’s stomach churned with anxiety, and he felt…filthy, and wanted a bath.  He felt almost ashamed to even be a man; how could anyone _think_ to prey on a small child, let alone his own daughters?  It was unthinkable! 

He could see why Ina wasn’t strong enough stop her sister.  Since she was small, she had been groomed and trained to submit.  And she was severely punished, if she’d ever tried to object.   He understood the women’s denial.  Both of those women told themselves lies to survive, otherwise, there was no point of going on.

Bard sat down on a stone bench and put his head in his hands.  The last time he felt so full of grief and despair, was when he had that nightmare, and went to the Eastern Parapet, to watch the bodies of the fallen be buried.  Thranduil had joined him, and he spoke words of wisdom about the Valar’s intentions. 

Bard had come to see the truth of the Elf’s words, even more so, now.  

No, everything does not “happen for a reason.”  Nothing could convince Bard that this was part of the Valar’s plan - to put those two women through such suffering, and to be passed on through two more generations.  The Valar did nothing to cause Ioan to be such a horror of a human being.  They didn’t “let it happen.”  _People_ did.

Bard could only look to the Valar to guide him, as he tried to help, but he felt woefully inadequate, and the turmoil in Bard’s heart went much deeper than that.  

What kind of world was it, that _any_ life could be in such despair from beginning to end, with no reprieve?   How can this be? 

Bard was not immune to tragedy or struggle, but he grew up with love that protected him, love that made him feel as safe as anyone can be in this world.  That made him rich.  Now, he was a wealthy man, and he was given a miraculous, second chance at love and a new world opened up to him.  Why him?  Why was _he_ so blessed, while others go through their entire lives, from birth to death, watching any glimmer of hope, cruelly snatched away?  What was the point of a life that only knew suffering?

He was angry. 

He’d never allowed himself to contemplate such things before.  He did what everyone else did; pretended things like that didn’t exist, so he could find a way to struggle through his own life.

The futility frightened him in a way he’d never felt before.  He felt helpless, and vulnerable and it only added to the pressures of all he was dealing with right now.

He thought of Alun, who was becoming a good friend to him.  He’d be working with him closely, for years to come.  How could he spend years working with someone, and know the deepest truth, and keep it from him? 

How could he not?  What purpose would it serve, except to devastate the man?  How could he not feel a churning in his stomach, and an ache in his heart for him?  In this moment, all Bard wanted was to go back and change things, so he’d never found this out.  This was a burden he didn’t know if he could handle.

_Please, Ulmo… help me…  How do I protect Alun from the truth?  How do I carry this inside, and not give the man any hint that something so wrong has happened to him?_

From his left, a smooth, baritone voice answered.  “You can do this, Bard, by taking _all_ the guilt, and _all_ shame of that secret, and throw it at the feet of the monster who caused this mess.  Put it at Ioan’s feet, and _leave it there._   If you have any affection or respect for Alun, you will refuse to consider anyone other than Alwyn as his father.  You can do it; I believe in you, _Meleth nîn.”_

Bard turned, to see Thranduil walking toward him. “I didn’t realize I’d said all that out loud.”

“I am glad you did.”  The Elvenking gave him a reassuring smile.  “Forgive me, for disturbing you, but you have been out here a long while, and I was afraid you would get too cold.” The Elf was carrying Bard’s fur-lined cloak.  He walked up, wrapped it around him, and fastened it at the neck for him.

“I meant what I said, Bard.”   Thranduil brushed the snow off Bard’s hair and face, and adjusted his collar.  “Leave the guilt with those who truly deserve it, and let this go.”

“How do I do that?”

“Alun has been told all his life, by his mother, and from others who knew Alwyn, that he was a good and kind man.  He may not have known his father personally, but he has the _idea_ of a man who would have been an excellent father, had he lived.  Alun also knows that this man loved him, every bit as much as your Da loved you.  Alun loves the memory of Alwyn, does he not?”

“Aye.  When Alun was thirteen, he ran off and Alwyn’s Mam and Da took him in.  They were good folk and help set him right, after what he went through.  I think that’s the biggest reason why Alun is like he is.”

Thranduil sat down beside Bard, and put his arm around him.  “That is Alun’s truth, Bard, and it is every bit as valid as what we learned in there.  The father he loves, has _nothing_ to do with the brief act that conceived him.  Alwyn was, and still is, Alun’s Da, and it will always be so.  It is not a lie, Bard.”

Bard still felt a heavy, filthy weight in his stomach.  “I’ll never say anything, you know that, but I don’t like feeling like I’m betraying a good friend.”

“Why would it be betrayal, Bard?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Let me ask you this:  Do you think Alun will meet up with Ioan, in the afterlife?  Do you think Eru would allow someone as twisted and sick as that man, to even _share_ the same afterlife as his family?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Who _do_ you believe will be waiting for Alun, when he passes on, to greet him with open, loving arms?”

Bard knew the answer, and smiled. “His Da.  Alwyn.  And Alwyn’s parents.”

Thranduil tilted his head, and smiled.  “Alun has a Da who loved him, and who loves him still, from wherever he is.  It is _this_ _love,_ Bard, that makes Alwyn his true father.”

Bard swallowed, his eyes filled with tears.  Thranduil reached his hand up, stroked his hair.

“Some of us grow up well, despite our circumstances.  Alun is a prime example of this.  A good bloodline does not guarantee success, as we know by the Master of Laketown.  Some come from the finest families and despite all their efforts, become a sick, twisted criminal, such as Ioan.  You, _Meleth nîn,_ had the benefit of both, and that makes you the most fortunate of men.”

“So Alun’s true family is Alwyn and his kin, because they loved him.  Is that enough?”

“Bard, what makes your children my children, too?  What makes Tauriel my daughter, and your daughter, too?  And Legolas?  What makes Galion, Hilda and Percy part of our family?”

Thranduil encouraged Bard to lean is head on his shoulder.  “I, too, mourn for the tragedy that is Ina and Iola’s life.  I do not understand why some of us are blessed to have so much, while others know so little of love and suffer so greatly.  It frightens me, to consider such things are even possible, _Meleth nîn._  I want to weep, from the sadness of it all."

“I know,” Bard said.  “I think that’s what I’m really upset about.  Not what Ina said.  Alun told me he’d suspected his grandfather was.. like that, so it was no real surprise to have that confirmed.”

“He did?”

Bard nodded. “When he brought up the subject of shipping them off to Bree, he wanted me to understand a little about the women's lives.”

“After all he suffered, and his own son attacked, he still wanted to you to show mercy?”  Thranduil smiled.  “This proves his quality to be the very highest, does it not?”

“Aye.”

“What exactly hurts you so much, Bard?”

“Well, it’s one thing to have it suggested, but another to have in right in your face.  I hate the idea of someone’s life be so full of violence with so little hope.  I can’t wrap my head around it, and it digs at me…”

“Ina’s life is no longer hopeless, Bard; you have seen to that.”

“But what about Iola?  She’s lost all sense of reason, hasn’t she?  What happens if she never gets over it?  What did her life amount to?  It all feels so…futile.  _What was the point_ of Iola’s life?  Why was she even here on Middle Earth?”

“If we knew the answer to questions like that, it would save all of us a great deal of trouble, would it not?”  Thranduil lifted Bard’s head off his shoulder and rested their foreheads together.  “We will never know those things, and to strive for it would be folly.  We must put our energies toward easing suffering, where and whenever we find it.  That is _our_ task, Bard.   That is how _we_ serve our people, and ourselves.  Leave those questions to Eru and the Valar.”

 Bard didn’t feel better, but there was truth in his words.  “Thank you.”

“For what, _Meleth nîn?_   You would have worked this out for yourself, eventually.”  Thranduil gave him a small, knowing smile.  “I simply brought your cloak.” 

“You’re right; I know you’re right.  So much of this is beyond me.  In any case, it’s time to go in.”

Thranduil stood up, and took Bard’s hands to bring him to his feet. “Come.  The family that our love has made, awaits us.”

Bard swallowed, and made himself smile.  All he could do is plow through.

Thranduil put his arm around him, and took him inside.  When they washed and got their sterile gowns on, to see Tilda, a rather nice surprise awaited him. 

Extra chairs had been placed in there and all the children were dressed in their gowns and wore their masks with silly smiles painted on them.  Bain and Rhys sat cross-legged against the foot of the bed, while Sigrid sat in a chair on the opposite side of Hilda and Galion.

Thranduil guided Bard over to sit against the headboard, so he could place Tilda in his lap, then sat down beside him.  This was the first time the family had been in the same room, since Tilda had gotten so sick, and Bard hadn’t realized how much he needed it.  He didn’t say much, but he kissed Tilda’s cheek and stroked her hair while he listened to everyone crack jokes and talk about their day.  

Trivial nonsense never sounded so wonderful!  Sigrid was doing well in maths; she’d aced a recent test, but all three of them needed to study for their Sindarin class, so Thranduil and Galion drilled them all (including Bard) on their vocabulary, and made it into a game.  Even Tilda did well, when Bard was told to recite his numbers and got stuck, and she whispered to him what seven was, and everybody clapped. 

Soon it was time for dinner, so the children went out with Hilda and Galion and the two Kings enjoyed theirs with their youngest, who ate everything put in front of her, and was able to use her spoon and fork, with a little less help than before.  She was clearly making progress, albeit slowly, but it was progress, nonetheless.   The exercises seemed to be working, and her brain was relearning to tell the body what Tilda wanted it to do.

All the while, Bard thought about his husband’s words, out in the garden.  In his head, he knew Thranduil was right.  He wanted to feel better about everything, and he ran the words through his mind several times, hoping his sense of hopelessness would lift, but it didn’t.  It all felt so heavy, and he didn’t know what to do about it… 

Why did he still feel so despondent?  He had no reason to be; he had a wonderful husband, his children were still with them, after all they went through, with the Dragon and the Battle.  Not every family was that lucky. He'd had ten years with his Mattie that he'd never trade for any reason.  He'd had loving, wonderful parents, who taught him values and a good work ethic.  They had been poor, but he had a happy childhood.  Now, he had a Kingdom, a new husband, and good people who were working hard together to start a new life.

Yes, he has a very sick daughter.  Yes, her welfare weighs heavily on him, as did just about everything else there was to do here and in Dale.  But he also had a great deal of support and guidance to help him chip away at all of it.

What in Mordor was wrong with him?  He shouldn’t feel this way!

After seeing the children off to bed, Bard soaked in the bathtub, and scrubbed himself raw.  When they went to bed, Thranduil reached for him, but Bard still felt distant.

“I’m sorry, love; just not having a good night.  I'll feel better tomorrow, I promise."

“Just try to relax, and get some sleep.”  Thranduil reached for his hand, and held up their intertwined fingers.  “This, _Meleth nîn_ , _”_ he whispered, “is all the truth that really matters.” And Thranduil kissed their joined hands and urged Bard to relax.

Bard fell asleep, still holding his husband’s hand, and prayed their truth would be enough to carry him through this.

 

 

**NOTES:**

"Learned Helplessness" is a real phenomenon that happens to victims of domestic violence:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Learned_helplessness

If you are a victim of domestic violence, or know someone who is, please seek professional help.

For those in the US, If you are in immediate danger, call 9-1-1. For anonymous, confidential help, 24/7, please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) ...

 

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a couple more interviews, Iola is finally brought before the King of Dale for interrogation, where he and Thranduil learn more disturbing details of life with their monstrous father, Ioan.
> 
> Bard passes sentence, and tragedy ensues. When will it all end?

 

 

 

**TRIGGER WARNING**   Mentions of physical, emotional abuse, rape and incest.

 

 

**The Woodland Realm; 19 th of February, 2942, T.A.**

The day began as most others have, since Thranduil became a father to three new children, and he loved it.   Despite Tilda's illness, and all the worry, he wouldn't trade a minute of it. 

“Just think, _Tithen pen,_ you are doing so well, that in four days, we can dispense with the gowns, and you can come out and join us!  What do you think of that?”  Thranduil asked her, as he helped her with her morning exercises.

“I like it.  When is the Elf coming?”

“Which one, _hênig?”_ Thranduil asked her.  “Daeron, or Meriel?”

“Meriel.  She’s nice.”

“We like her, too.  She is going to be here with you, during the day, to help you get stronger, and help you get caught up with your schoolwork.”

Tilda looked puzzled.  “I can’t hold a… “

“Pen?  Pencil?”

“Pencil.”

“Do not worry about that.  You held your spoon better last night, did you not?  The exercises you do with your blue ball, and wiggling your fingers are helping.   Did you not notice, this morning, when you took five whole bites of porridge by yourself?  Da did not need to help you.”

The little girl smiled.  “Uh-huh.”

“Yes, you did.  We talked about working hard, but only getting better bit by bit, do you remember?"

She nodded.  “Little bits.”

Thranduil kissed her forehead.  “I am proud of you.  You are a brave little warrior.”

“Warrior?”  Tilda’s face turned sour.  “No fighting.”

“There are many kinds of warriors, Tilda.  You fought your illness bravely, and now, you are fighting with its aftereffects.  I think you are every bit as brave as the soldiers who protect us.”

“They have swords.”

“One does not need to have weapons, or wear armor, to be a warrior, _Tithen Pen._   There are many kinds of battles that need to be fought.  You are working very hard to fight yours.”

Tilda considered this carefully.  Thranduil’s heart jumped, because this was a look on her face he had not seen since she had been ill.  These small mannerisms, pieces of the Tilda they all knew and loved, were coming back…

“I don’t want a sword.”

“I will not get you one, then.”  He smiled as they finished up, and Thranduil handed Charlotte to her, before he began to massage her legs and arms. 

Just as he finished, Meriel came in.  “Greetings, Lord Thranduil, Lady Tilda.”

“Meriel!”  Tilda smiled.

“I am very glad to see you, too.  I see your _Ada_ has done your morning exercises, so I was thinking perhaps we can draw on your slate for a while?  Then, we could rearrange the pictures from your friends hanging on the wall.  Did you have a good breakfast?”

“Aye.  I held the spoon.”

That is wonderful news, Tilda!  We will be sure to mark your progress on our chart, so everyone can see.  Would you like that?”

Tilda smiled and nodded.  “Can we read?”

“Of course.”  Meriel turned to Thranduil and asked, “Has Lady Tilda done her hand exercises?”

“Not as yet, however she did fifteen in each hand last evening.  Another sign of progress for the chart.  That was a good idea, was it not?”

“I like it.”  Tilda beamed. 

“I do, as well, Tithen Pen.  We all do.”  He put his arm around her.  “It is good to see your progress.  I think it helps on the difficult days.”

“Uh huh.”  She snuggled into him.

Thranduil kissed his daughter, then got up to leave.  Your Da and I will see you at lunch.  Be good, and have fun.”

_“Ada?”_

Thranduil turned, and smiled.  “Yes?”

“I love you.” 

The Elvenking’s heart squeezed.  “You are my joy, _Tithen Pen.”_

Thranduil dispensed with his gown, and went out to find Bard, who was waiting with Rhys.  Sigrid and Bain were already off to school, but the boy was asked to stay behind for a short meeting.

“Good morning, Rhys.”  Thranduil smiled at him.  “Did you eat a good breakfast?”

“Aye.”

“I hope you forgive Lord Bard and myself for delaying you, but there is something important we need to speak with you about.  Come.” 

He and Bard let the boy across the hall into his study.

“Have you ever been in my office, Rhys?” 

“No, My Lord.  It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”  The boy took in the sight of all the bookshelves, the big desk, the couch and chairs by the fireplace, and the conference table, which was only slightly smaller than his dining table.

“Did you paint this, My Lord?”  Rhys pointed to the picture of hanging on the wall behind Thranduil’s desk.  “It’s very good.  He’s King…Oroph…”

“Oropher, yes.” Thranduil smiled.  “I see you’ve been learning a bit of Elven history.  King Oropher was my father, and he established the Woodland Realm, when he came from Doriath with my mother.  Galion was also born in Doriath.”

It’s very good, My Lord.  I can see you resemble him.  Especially the eyebrows, but his hair is like Prince Legolas.  I saw him a few times when we came to Dale.  He and Tauriel helped us a lot at the Lake.”

“I am glad to hear it, and very proud.”

“Your Da looks like he was a good King, too.”

“Thank you, Rhys.  He was a great leader of our people.  I like having a reminder of all he taught me, not only about leadership, but what it means to be a good Elf.”

Bard led Rhys over to the couch.  “Thanks for agreeing to talk with us, and, again, I want to make sure you understand that you’re in no trouble.  Thranduil tells me you’ve behaved beautifully since you’ve been with us, and I’ve not seen anything to argue with that.”

Rhys still looked unsure.  “Are you going to move me?”

Thranduil was quick to respond.  “No, Rhys.  You are my ward, until you return to Dale, and I very much enjoy having you with me.  Lord Bard simply needs your help.”

Rhys looked confused.  “My help?”

“Yes _._   Lord Bard needs to ask you some questions about your grandmother and your aunt.  He would not do this, unless it was  absolutely necessary.  I want you to understand that am here for  _you,_ Rhys, and if I see you become distressed, I will stop the meeting.  If you become upset, you must tell me, will you do this?”

The boy’s eyes widened with alarm.  “I don’t want to cause trouble.”

Thranduil put his hand on the boy’s arm.  “None of what happened is your fault, Rhys.  And no one will inflict harm on the ladies.  We have merely discovered a few things that we need to understand better.  The things you tell us, might actually help them.”

Rhys looked down at his lap for a moment, then collected himself.  “Well, I don’t like thinking about it, but if you need me to help, I will.”

Bard smiled.  “You’re very courageous, like your Da.  I can see why he’s so proud of you.”  Then he continued.  “We’ve spoken to your grandmother, and aunt, and I get the impression that one of them was much worse than the other, is that right?”

“Aye.  Aunt Iola was much worse!”  Rhys nodded his head.  “She was mad, _all the time,_ and she was always yelling.  She even woke me up in the night, sometimes, saying I was bad.”

“She did?”

“Aye.  Then she would…”

Thranduil intervened.  “You do not have to speak of that, _Ion._ There are other things we need to know.”

Rhys sighed.  “Good.”

Bard remained calm and loose with the boy.  “What about your grandmother?  She did her share of screaming and yelling, too, didn’t she?”

“Not really.  She wasn’t like Aunt Iola.  She hit me a couple of times, but that was when Iola would make her.  She said if Gran didn’t do it, she would, and it would be worse.”

The Bowman smiled at Rhys.  “You’re doing very well.  I’ve just got one more question, if you think you could answer it.”

Rhys considered it, and Thranduil asked, “Are you all right?  Is this too much?”

The boy said, “I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aye.  I want to help you.”

“That’s great, Rhys.”  Bard smiled.  “Can you tell me if your Aunt Iola was ever afraid of your Gran?”

“Oh, no, My Lord!  It was the other way around.  I think Gran was afraid of my aunt.  That’s why she did everything Iola said.”

The two Kings looked at each other, before Bard said, “You’ve been a huge help.  I appreciate it.”

“Is that all?” the boy asked.

“That’s all for me.” Bard said.  “You’ve told me everything I need to know.”

Thranduil studied the boy, “You are well, _Ion?”_  

“Aye.  I’m good.  What will happen to them?”

Bard shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, son.  Just let us take it from here, and remember that we’re here to keep everyone safe, and that includes them.   Your job is to work on your schooling and your other activities.  However, Lord Thranduil has something he needs to speak with you about, if that’s all right.”

“My Lord?”

Thranduil nodded apologetically. “I need to apologize to you, Rhys.  The day I took you to the Healing Hall to be examined, I know I promised no one would know what the results were, but I must tell you that Lord Bard, as your King, has a copy of the report, and your father was also given a copy, because he is your parent.   I hope you are not upset about that.”

Rhys became slightly alarmed.  “Why do you have to have it?  I don’t understand.”

“At the time, Rhys, I was very concerned about you. You were clearly in a lot of pain, and it was imperative that you see the Healer.  You were very afraid and felt ashamed, and I knew that you needed to have your injuries taken care of.”

Rhys looked at them.  “Did you tell everybody what was on the paper?”

“No, Rhys.” Bard said.  “It was only for our records, and they are confidential.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the paper is locked away, and only a very few people will ever have access to it.  It will not be left sitting around for anyone to see.  Does that make you feel better?”

Rhys nodded.  “Was Da upset when he saw it?  I didn’t want to upset him.”

Bard gave him a reassuring smile.  “Son, he is a parent, and he loves you.  He’s going to be upset if you fall and sprain your ankle.  So, yes, he was upset and angry, but not at you.  You know that, right?”

“I just don’t want him to worry.”

“Tell me, when he saw you during his visit, did he act upset with you?”

“Well, he was upset because Lord Thranduil wouldn’t let him see Gran and Aunt Iola.”

“That’s true, but when he came back to Dale, he told me he thought about it, and King Thranduil made the right decision.  Rhys, I know you don’t understand all this yet, but someday, when you marry and have children, I promise, you will.”

“And you said Da saw the paper?”

“Your Da has a copy of it, yes.  He's your parent and it’s his legal right.  But, please don't worry about that. Your Da put it away, and doesn't talk about it.”

“So, no one read it out loud when you all had meetings?”

“I promise you, no one did.”  Thranduil told him.  “Not here, and not in Dale, because you are entitled to privacy and respect.”

The boy wasn’t happy, but he seemed to understand. “I don't want all the other kids to know, and to say anything.  I especially didn’t want Sigrid or Bain to know, because they would just feel sorry for me, and that’s worse.  I just want to forget about it."

“They’ve never seen it, Rhys, and to their credit, and neither one has asked me what we saw in that room.  Even if they did, I would refuse to tell them.  Does that make you feel better, Rhys?”  Thranduil asked him.

The boy nodded.  “No one’s said anything, so I guess I can see why you had to do it.”

“I am grateful for your understanding.  I take promises very seriously, as I am sure you do, too.”

“How do you feel?”  Bard asked him.

“I’m good.  I mean, I don’t like talking about it, but if I can help you, I want to.”

“Would you like a few moments, or would you rather go right to class?” The Elvenking asked.

The boy grinned.  “I’d love to wait; there’s a big history test, but if I put it off, I’d just have to take it later.”

Thranduil chuckled, and went to his desk and wrote a note.  After handing it to Rhys, he sent for a guard to take the boy to his class.  “Give that to Mistress Bronwyn, to excuse your absence.”

“See you at lunchtime!” the boy waved at them and was off.

“That went well.”  Bard said.  “Now we need to speak with Lynne and Mona.  They’ll probably say the same thing, but I need their testimony.”

 

Within a few moments, the two women were sitting on the couch, facing the Kings. 

“We want to thank you again, My Lord, for helping me and Mona out.”  Lynne smiled at her companion.  Then she said, “Is it all right to ask how your young one is?  We were so worried, My Lord.”

“Thank you, ladies.  She’s improving a little every day, and we’re very hopeful.”

Mona said, “We’ve enjoyed seeing Lord Thranduil with your children.  I’m sure everyone tells you he takes good care of them, but we’ve seen it, too.  He looks after all of us.”

Thranduil graciously accepted their compliment.  “I am happy to hear such kind words, and I thank you.”

“How do you like weaving?”  The King of Dale asked.

“Oh, it’s really interesting work!  There’s so much you can do, and make and these Elves are real nice to show us different ways things can be done.  Right now, we’re learning to dye silk.  Me and Lynne want to have our own business someday, in the Market.”

“That sounds wonderful, ladies.”  Bard smiled at them.  “Would you like some tea?”

“Oh, no thank you, beggin’ your pardon.” Lynne said, then looked at Mona, “You want some, love?”

“I’m good.” The girl said, with a smile.

Bard crossed his legs, and became a bit more serious.  “I’m glad to see you do so well, but I’m afraid there’s another matter I have to discuss with you.”

Thranduil sat back and observed his husband ask the women the same questions he had of Rhys, and framed them in the same way, to make absolutely sure of the answers.  Of course, Lynne and Mona had much stronger feelings about the women, and didn’t mind elaborating.

Their story also confirmed what they already heard: Iola was the main abuser, and although Ina was an unfriendly and demanding employer, she was not a necessarily a danger to them.  

“Tell me, was Mistress Ina openly hostile?  You said she wasn’t easy to work for.”

“No; she wasn’t.  She was miserable, and didn’t seem to care about anything, any more.  Mistress Ina never really yelled at us, she just wanted _everything_ done for her; like she didn’t know anything about making a bed, or mending clothes, or cook, or even how to shop.  No matter what we said, or did to bring some cheer into that house, she’d just look at us, and walk away, all snooty-like.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile.”

Mona grimaced.  “It was Miss Iola who as nasty as they came.  I swear, My Lord, if Lynne and I had anywhere else to go, we’d have left, but she threatened us.  She kept saying she’d tell the Master and we’d never work in Laketown again.”

“You’re both very young.  How long were you in their employ?”

“I started the day I turned seventeen, My Lord, which was four years ago.  Mona, here, came a year later, although she’s two years older than me.”

Bard nodded his head, and smiled, as they all stood.  “Thank you.  You’ve been helpful.  Please don’t worry about those two, they are no longer yours or anyone’s concern.  We both wish you luck with your training, and someday, King Thranduil and I plan to buy some of your fabric.”

Both women curtsied and were led out.

Thranduil sat with Bard for several minutes in silence, then he asked.  “Do you have any idea what you’re going to say to that woman?”

His husband sighed.  “The only think I can think of, is to confront her with the facts.  I don’t know what else to do.”

“I agree.  It is difficult to reason with someone who does not know reason.”  Thranduil frowned at Bard.  “Do you recall your encounter with Thorin?”

“Aye.  That was a waste of time, wasn’t it?”

“No, Bard; it was not a waste.  Thorin and the Company were given the chance for a peaceful resolution, and, more important, _your people_ saw that you tried to avoid a war, after everything your people suffered.  You proved to your concern for them, and thus earned their loyalty.”

Bard leaned over and kissed him.  “You always know just what to say.”

“I say it, because it is true.”  He smiled at his Bowman.

Bard got up and stretched.  “How long do we have until lunch?”

“We have over two hours yet.  There is plenty of time to get this meeting over with and avoid her running into the children.”

“Are you sure?”   Bard looked worried.

 _“Meleth nîn,_ if you plan to hold out for a productive exchange with this woman, there will never be enough time.”

“Aye.  You’re right.  I’m dreading this, but we can’t put it off.”

“I understand.  I will send for her, and we will get it over with.”

 

In a few minutes Bard and Thranduil were sitting at the desk, same as yesterday, facing an unkempt, defiant Iola.  Thranduil, now aware of the complexities of her life, was no longer angry, just sad that a life can be wasted so, and for the innocent lives that suffered from this madness.

Bard considered her in silence for a several moments, then spoke: “King Thranduil and I had a very interesting conversation with your sister, Iola.”

“Where is she?  Where is my sister?”

“Your sister is safe, and she is well cared for.”

Through gritted teeth, the woman spat, “She is NOT safe!  She is never safe, unless she’s with _me!_   I protect her!  Where have you taken her?  What have you done with her?”

“What do you protect her from, exactly?”

“None of your business!”

Thranduil leaned forward. “You will NOT speak to your King this way!  You will acknowledge his authority and respect his position, is that clear?”

Dior was positioned behind her, along with another guard, and he pulled her shoulders back, so that she was sitting up straight.  “You will answer King Bard’s questions.”

Iola looked up at him in surprise.  “You speak Westron?  You filthy LIAR!” and she struggled under his grip.  “Elven filth!”

Bard was on his feet in an instant, pounding the desk in fury. _“ENOUGH!”_ He said in a tone Thranduil had never heard from him before. 

Iola could not disguise her fear and shock, but all too quickly, it turned to rage, again.  “Where is my sister?  You’ve taken her away from me, and I demand to know why!”

“You, Iola of Dale, are guilty of beating your great-nephew to a pulp.  You have beaten your former servants, Lynne and Mona, and with my own eyes, I’ve sat here and watched you assault your sister.  Do you have anything to say for yourself about such acts?”

She sat and stared at him, and, to Bard’s credit, he met her gaze with a strong governance and determination.   The contest went on for many minutes, but at last, Iola relented, and looked down.

Bard spoke again.  “I am told your father was also a violent man.  Is this true?”

“He did what he had to do.”  She said.  When Dior shook her shoulder, she added, “My Lord.”

“Why do you say this?  No one ‘has’ to beat a child.  The idea that one must ‘beat the evil’ out of the young, is a lie, Iola.”

“My father did not lie!”  She was defiant, again, but there was a hollow tone to your words.  “He was a great man!”

“Iola, do you say this because you think it is true?  Or do you know, deep down how wrong he was, and are afraid to face it?”

The woman’s face paled for a moment or two. Then, as if some sort of lever was pulled in her, and the denial returned.  She was, again, angry and defiant.  “I see what you’re doing.  You’re trying to trick me, and I won’t have it!  My father was a good man!  The Lord of Laketown respected him, which is more than I can say for _your_ family!” she sneered.  “Papa was everything to us.”

“Iola, I know he beat you and your sister from a very young age, until his death.  I am sorry for your pain.”

“You know nothing of my pain!  If you did, you would give my sister back to me!”

“Ina is not a possession for you to own!  She is a person in her own right, who should have the freedom to do and go where she pleases.  You have _no right_ to dominate her, or anyone else in that way.”

“She is nothing without me. She needs me!  She can’t do anything without me!”

“Really?”  Bard raised his eyebrow.  “From what I see, _you’re_ the one who needs _her,_ and you can’t stand the idea of not having complete control.  Isn’t that true?”

She said nothing, but still stared daggers at Bard.

“You’re so afraid to be alone, you’ve been lying to your sister, to convince her she’s not capable of anything!”

“That’s not true!  She can’t do anything.  She needs me!”

“She does not need you!   She doesn’t need _anyone_ who beats her spirit down to nothing, like you have!  That is not love, Iola.  If you truly cared about your sister, you’d never do that.”

“You know nothing!!  I protected her!  I looked after her when Papa –“

“When your Papa did what?  Iola, beat the both of you for no reason?  _Nothing_ justifies what that man did to either one of you, and _nothing_ justifies what you and that bastard did to Alun, and” Bard voice rose again, “NOTHING justifies the marks and bruises that were found all over Rhys!  NOTHING!”

Iola was shaking with fury.  “That’s not true!  You’re trying to trick me into thinking terrible things about Papa, and I won’t –“

Bard banged his fists in fury.  “Your father forced himself on both you and your sister, did he not?  Does _that_ feel like something necessary, or even natural?  Is incest something that your Papa ‘had’ to do to you?  He raped the both of you!  Why can’t you see that?”

Thranduil was shocked at the bluntness, but perhaps it was necessary to make this woman grasp reality. 

Bard sat back and regarded the woman with slightly narrowed eyes, before he went on.  “Iola, there was nothing, and I mean _nothing,_ that justifies the abuse you and your sister suffered at the hands of your father.  Your father did not want to beat the ‘evil’ out of you.  It was _his own_ evil, and he threw around the name of the Valar to justify his own sick impulses.  _He_ was the evil one, and he took it out on you.”

Iola’s face turned grey and she froze.  She no longer looked at Bard; she looked _through_ him.  There was no sign of anguish in her face, but there wouldn’t be, would it?   She had been hiding her true self so deeply, Thranduil doubted she even knew who she was, anymore.

But Bard went on.  “Your father, Ioan of Laketown, was a sick, twisted _monster,_ and because of that, he severely abused you, and your sister.  He brought agony and pain to Alun, to Rhys, and to Lynne and Mona.  It all stops, here and now, do you understand?  NO MORE!”

There was dead silence.  Then Iola’s response came in a form of a limp, defeated sigh.  The expression on her face never changed, but the fight had left her. 

Thranduil wasn’t entirely convinced, though. This seemed just a little too easy…

“I have more questions, and you will answer them, is that clear?”

She managed to nod her head.  “Yes, My Lord.”

“What happened to your sister’s husband?”

“He drowned.”

“You know that’s not true, don’t you?  Everyone in Laketown could swim before we could even walk.  There was something else.”

She nodded.  “She wanted to leave me.”

“Did your father know she and Alwyn planned to take the baby away?”

“No.  I heard Ina and her husband whisper about it.”

“You couldn’t let her go, could you?  If she did, you’d be left alone with your father, and things would be worse.  Am I right?”

Iola looked down at her lap and swallowed.  “She was going to leave me, and I couldn’t let that happen.  I needed to make sure she stayed with me, always.”

“She owed you, for all those years, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did!  Papa was wrong to bring that… _man_ into our home…”

“But while Alwyn was there, your Papa didn’t hurt anyone.  Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because she was no longer mine!  _He_ came, and they had that… screaming brat, and he wanted to take her from me!  I had to stop him!”

“What did you do, Iola?”

“I put belladonna in his drink.  Then I told him I had a surprise made for Ina for her birthday, and asked him to pick it up for me.  He didn’t want to go, because it was dark, but her birthday was the next day and it was a secret, so he agreed to go.”

“How did you get him in the water?”

“I knew the drug in the tea would take effect soon, so I followed him, and when he passed out, I pushed him off the walkway.”

“You killed him.”

“No.  I had to make sure Ina stayed with me, because she’s mine.  That’s a different thing.”

“Iola, what about your father, how did he die?”

“I did it to make up for killing Alwyn.”  She said, in a flat tone.  “I had to stop him, but I knew it made Ina sad.  I wanted her to feel better.”  She looked at the Kings.  _“I’m_ the one who takes care of her!”

“What do you mean?”

“Alun was getting older, and I saw that Papa had begun to look at him the same way he looked at Ina, when she was young.  I killed him for Ina.  Papa stood outside of Alun’s room one night, but he saw me, so he jumped away.” 

“What did you do, then?”

“I prepared Papa’s drink that night, like I usually do.  He liked his wine before bedtime.  I put all the belladonna I had into his glass, and he never woke up.  I loved Papa, but I had to do it, so I could keep Ina.”

“Why do you say that?”

“If Papa had a special relationship with Alun, Ina might have left, and I will never let that happen.”  She looked at Bard with hard, angry eyes.  “Where is she?  You have to give her back to me, My Lord.”

Bard paid no attention to her last request, stood up, and stated, with all authority: “Iola of Dale, you have just confessed to not only the physical assault upon your sister, your servants and your great-nephew, but to the premeditated murders of your brother-in-law and your father.  I, Bard, son of Brand, heir of Girion, King of Dale, do hereby remand you into custody, where you will remain until the spring.  You will then be brought before me in the court of Dale, to face me and all our people, whereby I, and a group of your peers will decide your ultimate fate.”

Thranduil looked at Bard, and saw the sadness in his eyes.  Any hope of a simple and quiet solution to this was gone.  No one was going to Bree.  Ina was in no condition to do anything of the sort, and Iola was a multiple murderer.

He rose to stand beside his husband, as Bard nodded to the guards, to bind her hands.  Iola seemed very docile, which continued to make Thranduil a little suspicious.  Perhaps this behavior was genuine, but he had a sense it wasn’t.  But she had two of his best Elven guards with her; there was nothing more he could do.

“Take her away, Dior.”  Bard commanded.  “Do not return her to her quarters.  Take her to the dungeons, and lock her up.  She can do no more harm, there.”

“As you wish, My Lord.”

The two Kings stood in silence until the prisoner left, and closed the door behind them. 

“Bard?”  Thranduil put his hand on his Bowman’s back. 

His husband just kept looking at the door.  “I knew what she did.  I knew it, but to hear it out of her mouth…”

“I know, _Meleth nîn.”_  

“She was so…  calm about it.  You were afraid I couldn’t reason with her, but… she found cold-blooded murder perfectly reasonable and logical.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so frightening in all my life, Thranduil.”

“Sit down, Bard.  I’m going to pour you a drink.”

“I need one.”

They sat together on the couch for a long while, in silence.  Bard didn’t lean on him, or even touch him.  He just stared straight ahead, and his knuckles were white, as they grasped his drink.

 

***************

 

Iola made sure to act as meek and mild as she possibly could, when the Guard called Dior bound her hands again.  That filthy, Elven bastard!  He knew _all along_ what she and Ina had been saying, but what would one expect from and Elf?  The whole lot of them were liars and cheats, and they were beneath her notice.  And Bard, who _pretended_ to be their King, was married to one of those disgusting vile beings!

 _No one_ was going to force her to accept such a thing, but she needed to play their game.  They took her Ina away, and she was going find her, even if she had to kill every single Elf in this forsaken place!  Ina was hers, and _no one_ was going to get in her way! 

Dungeons?  Hah!  She wasn’t about to let herself be locked up.

Iola smiled her herself.  They didn’t know, did they?  But they’ll find out soon enough…

As they continued to escort her through the Palace, she made a big show of grasping her stomach and chest and saying how she didn’t feel well…  She even gasped a few times, and pretended to cry and be meek and mild…

Stupid Elves.  They patted her down for concealed weapons, but they hadn’t thought to look at the secret pocket in front of her corset, did they? Right next to the boning, so they couldn’t feel it.  They think they’re so clever, don’t they, but she was no fool, and they were about to see just how smart she was!

For weeks now, she’d been painstakingly working her mother-of-pearl handled nail file (It was her Mama’s) against the stone walls in her bedrooms.  She’d wake up in the night, and scrape, scrape, scrape it in the dark, until each metal edge was sharp enough to cut paper, and the tip could puncture even the coarsest of clothing.

Iola wanted to laugh out loud at her cleverness, but she knew she had to keep up the act.  They didn’t know, and she’d never tell them, would she?  She was the _only one_ who wouldn’t hesitate to protect what was hers, and Ina was hers.  She always was, and no one would have her. 

Those “Kings” thought they knew better, but they didn’t know everything, did they?  She was so clever; even Mama wasn’t allowed to take Ina away…

 

~o0o~

 

Mama loved Ina, but she only belonged to Iola.  She tried to explain to Mama how it was, but all her mother did was smile and laugh at her.  “You’re such a good girl, to love your little sister so much.”

“I love her, because she’s mine!”

Iola didn’t feel all that bad, when Mama died.  It had to be done, didn’t it?  Papa had done all he could to remove the evil from her mother, but it was still there.  She could see it, when Mama laugh at her.   She had to pretend to be nice, so Mama would drink the special, sweet tea she’d made. 

“I thought this might make you happy, Mama.  Do you like it?”

“Oh, of course I do, my lovely girl,” Mama had said.  “See?  I’m drinking it all up.”  And she had enjoyed the sweetness of the special berries Iola put in it.  Soon, Mama fell to the floor, dead, and Iola knew she’d saved her once and for all, from the evil.  Papa would be grateful; it saved him a lot of work.  It must be tiring to follow the Valar’s will, and to stamp out the badness in all of them.  No one could understand that; but Iola did. 

She was Papa’s “special girl…”

She knew Papa had special powers and even though it was hard, she let Papa do what was necessary.   But sometimes, he got out of hand with her little sister.  It wasn’t his fault; he was just so strong.  She knew that, until Ina was older, she’d have to protect her from him.  Papa was a good man, who was only doing what he was supposed to!  The Valar’s ways are _never_ to be questioned!  He always said how the Valar would come to him in dreams and tell him of things that had to be done. Sometimes he had a hard time controlling the power he’d been blessed with, so it was Iola’s job to keep him from getting out of hand.

Because she was Papa’s “special girl…”

Of course, when Papa brought Alwyn home to marry her Ina, she was angry, but Papa said it was the Valar’s will.  He was right, as always. With Alwyn in the house, the evil must have left; Papa didn’t need to work so hard to keep them pure.  Then Ina gave birth to that brat, Alun.  The boy was nothing special, and she knew the time would come to look after the child, just as Papa had done with them. 

Because, she was Papa’s “special girl…”

Then, she was coming back from the privy closet one night and heard her sister whispering.  Alwyn wanted to take her Ina away!  Thief!  A thief and a liar! 

Iola thought he understood, but he wasn’t from the Valar at all, and she had to save them.  When she poisoned him, and threw him in the water, she felt such a relief, and knew the Valar would approve. 

She had to protect her Ina. 

Then, when Alun was about eight years old, she knew she was no longer her Papa’s special girl.  She saw him watch the little boy, when he was trying to read, and how he put his hands Alun’s shoulders and gripped them a little too tight.  Papa’s smile was a little too eager.

Iola became very sad, because not only did Papa stop loving her, it seemed the Valar didn’t want to use him anymore.  Alun was going to grow up evil, and Papa didn’t want to stop it.  It was time for Papa to be dealt with, so she could take his place.  Ina didn’t want to be like that with Papa, and it would make her sad, if he wanted to be special with Alun, so she took care of it.

When she and Ina stood over Papa’s grave, she silently prayed to Ulmo and all the rest of the Valar for their help, as she carried on with the special mission of purity.  She would make sure that her Ina and that…child, were cured, whatever it took.

Then they finally got their hands on Rhys, here in the Woodland Realm, her mission began with fervor.  Papa was with the Valar now, and they sent him to tell her just what they had found in the boy’s soul, and charge her with removing it.  He told her how many lashes would take it out, so he could be good, again.

“You’re my special girl, and I am trusting you with this,” Papa told her in her dreams. “Iola, you have to save that boy.”

 

~o0o~

 

They were in the middle of the long, high walkway, when she knew it was time.

“Aaah!”  Iola pretended to grab her stomach, pulled her own legs out from under herself and fell to her knees, pretending to double over with pain, breaking the soldier’s grip on her arm. “It hurts!  I’m going to be sick!  Please! Help me!  I’m going to be sick!

The one called Dior and his helper quickly brought her back up and helped her to the railing.  Stupid Elves.  Didn’t they see her take her small dagger out of her corset? No.  Of course, they didn’t; she was doubled over!  And they also were too busy paying attention to her retching noises to even bother looking at her hands, where her little knife had cut through the ropes.

Oh, but they knew it soon enough, didn’t they, when she whipped around and plunged it into Dior’s chest.  When the other guard grabbed her, it was easy enough to bite his hand and make him scream long enough to release his grip, so she could go looking for her sister.  She stabbed the guard in the upper arm and broke free.

Then she heard it.

“Iola!  Help me!  Save me!”  It was her Ina’s voice calling to her, but she couldn’t see her.

“Ina!  Where are you?  I’m coming!”

Her head whipped around, to hear where the voice was coming from.  Across the deep cavern, she could hear the voice again.  They must be keeping her Ina prisoner in an invisible room over there.  Suddenly she saw it, and also saw the secret bridge, that Papa revealed to her.

“There she is,” Papa said.  “Go to her!  Only you can see the it, my special girl, it’s our secret.  Hurry!”

She crawled over the railing and using all her strength, she jumped to her sister’s rescue.  As she fell to the depths below, her hand was still reaching out, screaming her Ina’s name.

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Ion_ – son

 

 

** NOTES: **

"Learned Helplessness" is a very real phenomenon that happens to victims of domestic violence:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Learned_helplessness

If you are a victim of domestic violence, or know someone who is, please seek professional help. For those in the US, If you are in immediate danger, call 9-1-1. For anonymous, confidential help, 24/7, please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) ...

If you have been a victim of sexual assault there is a completely confidential hotline, where you can receive support.  Call 800.656.HOPE (4673) to be connected with a trained staff member from a sexual assault service provider in your area.

For more information about this service, please check out the RAINN website: https://www.rainn.org/about-national-sexual-assault-telephone-hotline

 

 

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard hits his breaking point, and has a complete meltdown.
> 
> It's not pretty.

 

**The Woodland Realm; 19 th February, 2942, T.A.**

 

Bard sighed, as sat next to Thranduil, and drank his wine. 

Since yesterday he’d been so filled with anxiety, he could hardly stand to be in his own skin.  It wasn’t as if he didn’t know such thing ever occurred - so, what was wrong with him?  Even Alun himself said he suspected sexual abuse. 

So, what _**was**_ wrong with him?

Maybe it was because he was the father of two daughters, himself.  Maybe it was the strain of Tilda’s sickness, and his fear she’d never be the same.  Maybe it was because he was forced to face how much damage this caused, up close and personal.

And Iola spoke of murder with such a matter of fact voice, it went straight to his gut.  Before him was the most frightening enemy he’d ever faced.  A madwoman, who was capable of absolutely _anything._

And he hadn’t seen it coming.  He should have seen this; he should have suspected this sooner.

He’d screwed up.

“Are you well, _Meleth nîn?”_   Thranduil asked him. 

“No.  I’m not.  I feel like I’ll never be able to see the world in quite the same, way.”

“I am sorry.” 

When Bard felt Thranduil’s arm around his shoulders, he pulled away; he couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry love; I just…  It’s more than I can take, right now.”  Bard apologized. 

Thranduil looked hurt, but he stopped trying to touch him.  “Can you tell me what you feel?  Can I help?”

Bard shook his head.   “I – “

Just then there were frantic footsteps outside the door to the study, and a guard rushed in. _“My Lord!”_

“What is it?” Thranduil demanded. “What happened?”

“Captain Dior and Lieutenant Elion have been stabbed, and the one called Iola is dead!  You must come quickly!”

Bard looked at his husband in horror; his mouth was too dry to speak.

“Tell us what happened, on the way.  Are the guards in the Healing Halls?”

“They are at the scene.  Elénaril is trying to stabilize Dior, so he can be moved.”

They all broke out into a run, with the young, black-haired guard ahead, ordering everyone to make way.  At this moment, Bard didn’t care if anyone saw how fast he could run, now.  They needed to get there; they were already too late.

Whey came up to the scene on the walkway, Bard cursed, under his breath. There was Dior, who moments ago, had been standing straight and strong in their office, lying in a pool of blood, unconscious.  Elénaril and another Healer were frantically working over him.  Elion was propped up against the railing, grasping his arm in agony, as blood seeped out around his fingers. 

The prisoner - where was she?

“She jumped over the railing, My Lord.”  Elion answered, though Bard hadn’t realized he’d said anything out loud.

Bard quickly looked around.   The doors to the Main Dining Hall were in direct view.   _Oh, shit..._

He yelled across to a nearby guard.  “You!  Get to Mistress Bronwyn and tell her to shut those doors – “  But just as he said that, they all saw two guards across the way taking care of it.  “Good, then; keep the children inside, until we say so.  I don’t want _any_ of them to see this!”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Bard knelt beside Elion and tried to help him staunch the bleeding.  “Do you have anything to tie this off?”

The guard groaned in pain.  “Yes, My Lord, in my left pocket.  I cannot take my hand off my arm to reach for it.”

Elion was right.  His fingers were barely staunching the flow of blood, as it was.  Quickly, Bard grabbed for the cloth, and tied a tourniquet tightly above the wound.  It helped, but not much as he’d hoped.  Elion’s face was becoming dangerously pale, and his lips had lost their color.

“Stay awake, do you hear me?   Stay with me.”  _Bloody fuck… This can’t be…  How could this happen?_

“I am doing my best, My Lord.”  But the guard’s voice was barely audible.  His hand fell away, and his eyes closed.

“I need some help over here!”  Bard cried, desperately, has he put pressure on he wound.

As if in answer to a prayer, Daeron ran across the walkway and skidded to a stop in front of them.  “I was in with the children, Lord Bard.  They are safe, and cannot see.  I thought I could be of service.”

“Yes, you can.  I’ve got this tied off, but he’s still bleeding, and I can’t stop it.”

Daeron stopped and took a few breaths, to ready himself.

“Do you want me to move my hands?”

“No.  You will help me.” Then placed his hands over Bard’s and spoke some words in Quenyan.  Instantly Bard felt the connection, and began to see what they were looking for.  The blade had nicked the artery his upper arm and the guard had lost a dangerous amount of blood.  Instinctively Bard pushed down harder, and ignored Elion’s moan of pain, as Daeron began to sing the edges of the rip together.  Bard began to feel the light inside him, and he knew he was enveloped in it; along with the Elves.  He’d no idea what words Daeron was saying, but somehow he knew what they meant.  He also knew it wasn’t just Daeron doing the healing, _he was_ _doing_ _it_ , _too_.

This should have fascinated him.  He should be excited about this new discovery about himself.

He didn’t.  It was yet another unfamiliar burden to bear; something else to show he had no idea who he was right now.

At last, they both sensed when to let up the pressure, and they sat up straight, as Daeron felt for his pulse.  “It is weak, My Lord, but it is still there.  He needs to get to the Healing Hall, right away.”  Bard helped Daeron pick Elion up, just as some other guards stepped forward to assist in taking their Lieutenant to the infirmary.

“Sigrid!  Get back here!”  Hilda’s outraged and frightened voice echoed through the cavern.  But his oldest was determined and continued to run to him, as fast as her legs would take her.

“Da?  How can I help?”

“You can’t.” Bard snapped at her.  “I ordered you children to stay in the Dining Hall!”

“But Da – “

“No buts!   You were given an order, and I expect you to obey it!”

Sigrid froze in her place, with her eyes wide with hurt.  “I just wanted to help.  I saw Daeron run out and I thought – “

Bard was past the end of his tether and endurance.  “You will never, _ever defy my orders, again,_ do you understand?  Suppose that madwoman was still running around?”

“But she isn’t, Da.  I heard the guard tell Daeron she jumped.  I just want to try and hel –“

 _“ENOUGH!”_   Bard screamed at her. “DO AS I BLOODY WELL TELL YOU!”

Sigrid stepped back from him, as her eyes spilled over.  Hilda came up behind her, and took her arm.  “Come now love, let’s go back.  I need your help to look after the children, yeah?  Rhys will need us, right now.”  The young girl nodded silently, and was doing her best to keep from crying.

Hilda turned her around and they both left, but not before the woman gave him an _I’m-going-to-kick-your-bloody-arse_ look.

Bard tried to care, but right now, it just wasn’t in him.

He went over to where they were working on Dior.  He saw an object on the floor, and picked it up.  It was a metal nail file, with a mother-of pearl handle. It must be part of a vanity set.  In fact, Thranduil had one in silver, but this one didn’t have dull, rounded edges.  It had been sharpened along each edge, and the end had been shaped to point: it must have taken her weeks, but Iola had turned it into a small dagger. 

It was covered in blood, the Elves were covered in blood, his hands were full it, and there was blood all over the stone walkway.

Bard barely made it to the railing before he began to retch. 

 

When he recovered his sensibilities, he made his way to where Dior lay.  The Captain was still unconscious, and it wasn’t looking good.  Before he could stop himself, he kneeled in the pool of blood surrounding Dior, and placed his hands over his husband’s and Elénaril’s.  Again, he could “see” it; a punctured left lung, which was bad enough, but blood was filling the cavity surrounding his heart, and it was killing him.

Elénaril reached into her bag and took out a knife.  “This is too wide.  I need something thinner.”

Bard picked up the dagger, again.  “Will this do?”

“Wipe it off on your shirt and give it to me.”  Bard did as she asked, then she took out a bottle of spirits and clean the dried blood off.  Then she dipped the blade in the bottle, and swished the blade around in the liquid. 

“Hold him steady.   Do NOT let him move!”

They placed their hands on him again, as Thranduil began to chant.   Bard steadied his own breathing, and he could see Elénaril slowly and oh-so-carefully insert the blade into Dior’s side.  She went slowly, to avoid any of the veins and arteries in her way, until she pierced the sac.  His heart was barely moving.  It was Thranduil and the other Healer who had repaired his lung, and were sending the blood through is body, keeping him stable, until the surgery was finished. 

Once the sac was pierced, Elénaril began her song, and Bard felt compelled to assist her, to help drain the blood, as quickly as possible.  Together they drew it carefully from him, sending it out of him, and onto the stone floor.  Once done, they sealed the sac and the hole in his side.

But Dior’s heart was still so weak.   Shouldn’t it be stronger by now?  It wasn’t.  In fact, it had stopped, entirely.

They all looked at each other in horror. 

“He’s dead,” Elénaril whispered.  And they all sat back on their heels in shock.  The Elves lowered their heads in sorrow.

This was all too much for Bard.  Furious, he said, “No, dammit, he bloody well isn’t!”

“Bard – “

“No!”  Bard put his hands on Dior again, determined to do something.  “Don’t you dare die!  Don’t you fucking dare!”  But nothing happened.

“Bard,” Thranduil whispered.

“Shut up!”  Then he looked down at the lifeless Elf and felt nothing but rage at all the destruction that monster Ioan had wrought upon so many lives.  When would it end?

Before he realized what he was doing, he balled his hands into fists and brought them down with all his might on Dior’s chest.  “Don’t you dare die!”  He hit him again.  And again.  He cursed the heart that lay so still in his chest, and made sure to aim his next blow right on it.  _“LIVE, you bastard!”_

Thranduil’s hands were on his arms, shaking him.  “Stop it, Bard.  _BARD!”_

The Bowman came back to himself, and sat up straight, panting, and saw everyone stare and him, with wide eyes.

Bard was a stranger to himself, right now.  It frightened them, but not nearly as much as it frightened _him._  

Had he gone mad, too?  _Oh, gods…_

 “Bard?”  His husband was upset, but Bard couldn’t bring himself to care, as they looked at each other.

No one was expecting what happened then.

“Look!  Dior’s chest is rising!”

“What?”

“He took a breath!”

Elénaril quickly put her hands back on his chest, as the other healer put her fingers to his neck.  They looked at each other incredulously. “His heart is beating again.”

“But how could that happen?”  Thranduil asked.  “It stopped.  We all saw it!”

But the Healer was too busy checking over the Captain.  “I do not care how or why it happened, I am only glad it did.” She looked up at a pair of waiting guards.  “Take him to a treatment room, quickly.  I will be right behind you.”

Once Dior had been taken away, the two Kings were left standing on the walkway, standing in, covered with, and reeking of, blood.  Thranduil ordered that Iola’s body be recovered as soon as possible, and several guards left to begin the task.

“This needs to be cleaned up, I don’t want any children near this.”  Bard heard himself say, in a faraway voice. 

Thranduil gave the orders, then put his hand on the small of Bard’s back to guide him back to their chambers.   When they got there, Galion had soap, water, and changes of clothes, ready for them, in the study.

“I hope this is all right, My Lord.  I did not want to take the chance of Tilda seeing you in this state.”  Galion said, as the Aide’s eyes ran over both of them.

“Thank you, Galion.” Bard heard his husband say.  “That was thoughtful of you. Please make sure any bloody footprints are removed from the floor; especially this hall, before the children come back.”

Bard didn’t acknowledge Galion’s presence, so he didn’t see the concerned look on the Aide’s face.  He removed his boots before stepping into the Elvenking’s office.  Once the door was closed, he tore off his clothes and rolled them in a ball and viciously threw them in a corner.  Then he poured some water into the basin and began to soap his hands and arms.  He his movements quickened, and he began to dig viciously into this skin, to remove all traces of the violent crime that had just taken place.  He only realized how frantic his movements had become, when Thranduil put his hands over Bard’s wrists to try and still him.

  _“Meleth nîn?”_   Thranduil’s voice was soft and tentative, and held him firmly, until Bard slowed down.  Bard didn’t want to look at him, or anybody, he could barely stand to be touched like this, but he did manage to get himself under control.  Bard rinsed off, redressed, and went over to the couch to put on his clean boots, as Thranduil took his turn with the soap and water. 

He felt like he was watching himself go through the motions, as if he had somehow drifted out of his body, to observe all this from afar.  All that was happening in this room, in this Palace, even inside _him_ seemed far away. 

Bard glanced over and saw Thranduil finish dressing, and added his clothes and boots to the bloody heap of fabric in the corner. 

“Galion will take them to be washed.”  The Elvenking said, and moved toward the door.

“No.”

“Bard?”

“Burn them.  I don’t ever want to lay eyes on them again.” 

Thranduil looked at him for a long while, then nodded.  He opened the door and ordered the guard to take them away.  He also requested their warm cloaks, which soon arrived.

“Come, _Hervenn nîn._   Let us get some fresh air.  Galion will see to Tilda, and the children will not be back for hours.”

They stepped outside, and walked for a while.  Bard’s steps were quick and hard, as if he was trying to punish the very ground he stood on for everything he was trying not to feel.

“Bard, please…”

“What?” he whipped his head around to look at his husband.  “Tell me, what?  _What?!”_

“I know you are upset and angry…”

Bard looked into his face, and all the feelings he was trying to stave off, began to touch him, and soon he was drowning in them.

Thranduil was concerned.  “Just talk to me, _Meleth nîn._ Tell me what you are thinking, and feeling.”

Bard knew that his husband only meant well, but that moment, he didn’t care.

“I can’t _begin_ to tell you what I’m feeling.” He said in a quiet, voice, as fists clenched and unclenched.  “As for what I’m thinking?  Trust me Thranduil, you _really_ don’t want to know.”

“Yes, _Meleth nîn,_ I do.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He saw how Thranduil flinched back with his mouth open, and his eyes wide, but there was such a storm in him, he didn’t let it register.  Bard knew what he’d said, but it had come from a place in him that lacked reason or restraint.

“You want to know what I’m thinking?  Fine, I’ll tell you:   _What the bloody fuck happened out there, Thranduil?_   How could those two have _no fucking idea_ that bitch had a knife on her?  How could _you_ let it happen?  I was under the impression _you_ chose them for the job!  _You_ said they were ‘highly trained’ and I trusted _you!”_

Bard couldn’t stop now; whatever popped into his mind poured right out of his mouth, whether it was true, or not.  He was desperate to get this dreadful, violent wrath out of himself.  He was suffocating from it, and was clawing at anything, anything to breath the fresh air, again.

As Thranduil opened his mouth to speak, Bard cut him off.  “No, Thranduil!  I trusted _you!_   From the beginning, it was _you_ I trusted, and looked up to and felt safe with.” 

Bard laughed bitterly, then continued with scorn, “You fed my people when we were about to die of starvation, and I’m grateful, but then you had this _brilliant_ idea that you could turn me into a King!    _You knew_ I didn’t know the first thing about it, but _you_ pushed me into doing it.  You made me feel like my people wouldn’t survive, if it wasn’t me!  I didn’t have any choice, did I?  Then you and Gandalf made me negotiate with the dwarves, by making me feel like it all depended on me, and the whole future of Middle Earth would fall, if I fucked it up!

“I’ve been separated from my children, for the first time since they were born, which was _your_ idea.  Then my youngest, _my baby,_ almost dies, and I _wasn’t there,_ Thranduil!  I wasn’t there to help her, and now, I don’t know if she’ll ever be the same!”  

When Bard began to talk about Tilda, he was incensed beyond all control.  “Every time I see her wrestle with her thoughts and memories, IT SLICES MY INSIDES TO RIBBONS!” he screamed.  “To bloody ribbons!  She can’t even FUCKING _WALK,_ Thranduil, and I don’t know if she ever will again!   How I am supposed to try and live with that, and be the King you decided I had to be?  HOW am I supposed to keep all of this up?  You have all the fucking answers; but I don’t hear a word about _this,_ do I?”

The shocked and hurt look on Thranduil’s face barely registered through his rage.  The Elf was frozen to the spot, and his eyes began to fill. 

Bard saw it, but the part of him that would despise what he was saying was gone, right now.

He continued to yell at the top of his lungs.  “Because _you_ wanted me to be a King, Thranduil, I had to sit in there and deal with something more revolting than _anything_ I ever saw on the battlefield!  Gods, I can’t get rid of the feeling of being covered with insects!  Every time I close my eyes to sleep, I see… I can’t even say it!” 

Bard clenched his teeth and spat, “Oh, but now, thanks to the incompetency of your fucking guards, there was blood _everywhere,_ and they almost lost their lives!  Where in the fuck was Iola hiding that knife, and why in the _bloody fuck_ didn’t your men know it was there?  Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if one of my children happened to be on that walkway when she managed to get free?  Or _any_ child?”

Thranduil swallowed and said, quietly, and his breath caught. “I do not know.”

“Oh, really?  The mighty Thranduil, the ancient Elvenking who’s done and seen _everything_ ‘ _doesn’t_ _know_?’  You want to hear about what _I don’t know?_   EVERYTHING!  In the last three and a half months, there is _nothing_ of the life I once knew!  I sit in my study and pretend to know what the fuck I’m doing, but I _don’t._   I sit behind that desk or walk around among my people and they all look to me like I’m supposed to have all the fucking answers, and I _don’t!”_

Then the volume of Bard’s voice lowered, and his lip curled in fury, as he continued.  “Let me tell you something else _you don’t know._   Do you have _any idea_ what I’ve been going through in Dale?  What it’s been like, to try and get used to a body that acts in a way I can’t recognize?  My weapons practice is a fucking joke!  You haven’t a clue how many bruises the Chief Healer has to take care of, because I can’t even swing a _bloody fucking_ sword right now!  And he treats me as if I’m some sort of… specimen, he wants to study, because _no one knows what’s going to happen to me!  I don’t know what’s happening, and it’s MY fucking body!_

When these thoughts came out of his mouth, the tears began.  His cheeks were wet, and he could hardly see, but he was shaking so hard, he couldn’t do anything. 

“Thranduil, do you know what I’d be doing now, if I were the way I used to be?  I’d be taking my bow and arrow out to shoot, and shoot, and shoot, until I felt like I had some control in my own fucking life again!  Even if it was a lie, at least I could feel good enough about myself to pretend it was the truth for one more day.  Archery was the ONE thing that made me feel like a man, when so much else was gone.  Thanks to my marriage to _you,_ I can’t hit a fucking target anymore!  I’m drowning in all this shit, Thranduil, and I feel like a stranger in my own body, _and I fucking HATE IT!”_

Bard could barely breathe, and for the first time since he started this diatribe, he fully realized what he had said.   He’d stepped over a line he’d never meant to cross, and he honestly didn't understand how or why!  All he knew was that something in him had felt _very_ wrong.  

And now...

 _Oh, gods…  No, no, no…_  

He’d gone too far. 

Thranduil stood frozen on the path, as a tear fell down his cheek, unnoticed.  Then that same cheek began to change shape and color, but that wasn’t the worst of it. 

Thranduil’s eyes were now dull, and almost lifeless.  The spark and life that Bard had loved about them, was gone.

 _Oh, no…_   Bard’s rage and confusion, was instantly replaced with regret and shame.  All the remaining fight went out of him, and he didn’t know what to do, now. 

They stood there staring at each other for several minutes; unmoving. 

Then Bard, now mortified with himself, tried to fix it, before it was too late.

“Oh, Stars, Thran, I…”  He took a step forward, and began to reach out to him, but Thranduil looked at him with horror, and stepped back, as if Bard’s touch would burn him.

Then, he turned and fled, leaving Bard alone.

Iola’s death was his own fault.  Dior’s and Elion’s blood were on his hands.  His ignorance and neglect had caused that bloody, murderous scene in front of him.  He was King, and he’d not done due diligence, and now there was death and bloodshed.

Worst of all, he was too much of a coward to face his own guilt for what had just occurred, so he turned on Thranduil, his love, the one who’d nothing but support him and love him and help him. 

Only the worst, most despicable of men would do that…

_What have I done?_

Bard had broken him, he’d broken _them._ He’d just killed the most beautiful thing in his life, and destroyed the family they were trying to make, before it ever had a chance to really get started! 

_Oh, Valar… no…please…_

Bard made his way over to a nearby bench, buried his face in his shaking hands, and felt his insides shatter into tiny pieces, as he sobbed.

 

***************

 

Thranduil somehow found his way into the Palace; he knew that much. 

He looked over to the doors of his chambers –

No.  He couldn’t.  Not now.  He needed to be alone, because he felt like half of him had just been ripped off, now his soul was bleeding out of him.  Again.  It was like this when Mírelen died.  He was alone and bereft, again.

“Thrandiul?  What’s wrong, love?  Where’s Bard?”

He knew his eyes were cast in Hilda’s general direction, but he couldn’t really see her, or Galion who had a worried look on his face.

“Are you well?” he heard Galion’s words.

Thranduil moved his mouth, but he couldn’t make words come out.  All he could do was turn in the direction of his study, and dive into it.

Once he closed and locked the it behind him, he groped his way over to the couch, and sat down, doubled over with agony.  He lowered his head and buried it in his arms, as he gasped from the shock and pain.  He tried to control his breathing, but it was impossible, because thoughts were racing through his mind, and the enormity of what had just happened with Bard sank into his heart and soul.   He clutched the back of his head, as he sank lower into a ball, with his fingers buried in his own hair, to shield himself. 

Shield himself from what?

From the world he had just begun to know and trust once more.

From the emotions he’d at last begun to feel again.  Emotions that he still struggled hard to manage, sometimes. 

From the love he’d found, again.  Love he thought he shared with his Bard, but now he knew it wasn’t real.  He didn’t know Bard was unhappy; why didn’t he?  Shouldn’t he have felt it?

But, theirs was a unique situation and the regular rules may not apply.  Maybe their bond was an illusion, as well; maybe it was just wishful thinking.  It was real to Thranduil, but perhaps Bard experienced things differently.

Bard was right; he _was_ a King, because Thranduil had pushed him into it.  He was the rightful heir, but he’d never really had a choice, because Thranduil kept encouraging Bard to do it, and now the man was overwhelmed and hurting, and clearly this was more than he could bear.

But that wasn’t even the worst of it. 

He’d fallen in love with Bard, and while they both knew things could change, Thranduil had no inkling of the things he’d _robbed_ from the man he loved, when he joined with him.  He didn’t know what would happen; neither of them did.  Gandalf was careful to warn them, but they were too much in love to think it through. 

They’d been married just weeks after meeting each other.  Weeks!  What foolishness!  Thranduil should have known better.  Maybe he _did_ know better, but he was so… _excited_ about finding love!  He was was so happy to have real feelings about _anything_ again, he’d been blinded to the fact that Bard was different. 

He should have made them wait; at least until the spring, so they could weigh the price of their joining against the any benefit.

_Oh, Valar; how did he get it so wrong?_

He never meant to ruin anything for Bard!  He only wanted to be with him; to love him with all his heart, but Bard finally admitted the truth: the price for Bard to love Thranduil was too high, and it wasn’t going to work.

Thranduil wasn’t worth it; not to Bard.  Thranduil loved his Bowman with every fiber of his being, but the cost of all this had ruined any chance of Bard loving him back.  He loved the children so much…so much, and they would be turned away from him, to leave him alone in this Palace once more.

_Help me… help me bear it, when these rooms are silent and lonely again…  Give me strength to go on…_

As soon as the words entered his mind, he knew he wouldn’t be able to bear a loss like this again.  He curled into himself even more, as his heart, his very soul was crushed into pieces so small, he doubted he’d ever recover from it. 

He adjusted his position, when his glamour fell, but he couldn’t find it in him to replace it, and he didn’t even care anymore.  It seemed fitting that his outsides reflected the self-loathing within him. 

Who’d want to be with a freak like him? 

 

After a long time, his sobs began to slow down some, but he still keened and wailed in utter despair. 

He didn’t hear the door to Galion’s study open, or the quiet footsteps, or someone sitting down beside him.

Arms reached to gather him, and offer comfort.  He could tell it wasn’t Galion.  The good side of his face was held against a soft, pillowed chest, with a scent of lemon and spices.  Strong, calloused hands, normally busy with activity, were gently stroking his hair.

“Shh…”  Hilda whispered.  “Lay your head, now, and let go of it.  I’ve got you, love.  I’ve got you…”

Thranduil didn’t think he had anymore tears left in him, but he was wrong.

 

***************

 

Bard was sitting on the stone bench, staring off into the cold air.  He’d worn himself out with crying long ago.  He knew he couldn’t stay out here forever, but he didn’t know how he could go back in there, either. 

He didn’t think he could face Thranduil – what could he possibly say or do? 

What he’d said was unfounded, and unforgivable.   He didn’t even mean them!  Why, in the name of all the Valar, would he do this?  Destruction wasn’t what he wanted, and yet here he was, tearing down all hope for the future with the one he shared a soul with!  With the one he _knew_ he belonged with!

_Oh, Valar…what have I done?_

He was so, so tired.  Bone-weary.  He didn’t think he had the energy to make it through this day, let alone contemplate any to come.  Right in this moment, he didn’t want to, either.   Stars, he almost wished he could fade, like the Elves do, when faced with such utter grief and pain.  It would be simple, wouldn’t it?  To just…leave, instead of trying to pick up the pieces of all the lives he had just shattered, because of his stupidity and his big mouth.

He closed his eyes, and buried his face in his hands, as he began to cry again.  

 

“Do you mind if I sit here, a while?”

Startled, Bard instantly sat up straight, wiping his eyes quickly, as he tried to get himself under control.  “Of course, have a seat.”  His voice came out as a croak, but the other person was kind enough not to point that out.

As Galion sat down, Bard asked, “How long have I been out here?”

“Three hours.”

His eyes widened.  “Are the children all right?”

“Everyone is where they should be.  Tilda is fine with Meriel, and the others are attending their riding lesson.  Falarion decided on an outdoor ride today, so they will be later than usual.  Elénaril insisted Sigrid go along, too.”

At the mention of his daughter’s name, Bard’s head lowered, and he covered his eyes.  “I didn’t mean to hurt her, but the idea of her so close to…  There was so much blood, and I just…” Bard’s lips trembled.  “Stars, Galion, I’ve never yelled at any of them like that!”

“I believe you, _Mellon nîn.”_

“And that’s not the worst of it.  I hurt Thranduil and I never…”  He couldn’t help the sob that came out.  “I-I took it all out on him, and I didn’t mean it.”

Galion sat back and studied him.  “Much has changed in a very short time, Bard.”

 _“Everything_ has changed!  Almost all of it’s been wonderful, but these past weeks have been…… more than I can bear.  All Thranduil wanted to do was help me.  And what did I do? I just… _blew up,_ and I said rotten things to him!   I took it out on him, and made him feel like he was to blame, when he wasn’t!  I said unforgivable things, Galion.”  Bard looked at the Elf with teary eyes.  “I swear; I didn’t mean it.  I didn’t mean any of it!  _I_ deserve the blame, not him!”

Galion put hand on Bard’s shoulder and squeezed it, as Bard put his head in his hands, again. 

“I _broke_ him, Galion.  When I saw his face, I _knew_ I ruined whatever trust we had.  I destroyed him, and I destroyed my family, and I can’t take _any_ of it back!  I’ve let _everyone_ down, and I don’t know what to do, now.” Bard began to cry, again.

“You love him, Bard.”

“I do!  I love him so much, but…” he rubbed his hands over his chest.  “I can’t live with myself; I lashed out, and I ruined us…  I don’t feel him, like I did…” 

The Aide put his arm around Bard and steadied him, as his tears started again.  “I killed what was between us, and I killed part of him, and I’m so sorry.”

“But you _love_ him, Bard.” Galion said, again.

“Like the air I breathe.  I love him so much, but I ruined any chance we’d have to be happy!  I know I’m going to have to leave, and I deserve that, but I can’t face him, after what I’ve done.  You should’ve seen the look on his face, Galion.”

“I did see, him, Bard.  Hilda and I were in the hall when he came in.”

Bard sighed, and hung his head, as he ran his fingers through his hair.  “Oh, gods…  I’m so sorry.  You must hate me.”

 “I understand you are afraid, Bard,” Galion said, kindly, as he gave a handkerchief to wipe his face.  Then he began to rub Bard’s back.  “For everyone’s sake, you must try to work this out.”

“I can’t, Galion; I ruined everything!  I don’t deserve him, and I don’t deserve to be King.  And what do I say to the children?  Stars, what about Tilda?  What can I possibly to say to her?”

“Are you sure it’s over between you two?”

Bard shook his head.  “After the shit I just threw at him, I doubt he’d ever want to see me again, and I don't blame him!  He _should_ make me leave.  I was vicious, and I’ve never been that way to _anybody,_ before!  I killed us over words I didn’t even mean!  _Oh, Valar…”_

“Let me ask you this: did you never fight with your wife, Mattie?”

“Sometimes.  She had a temper.” Bard told him.  “But she never went off on me like I did to Thranduil.  She’d never do that!  What the bloody fuck is wrong with me, Galion?”

“What is wrong is that you are exhausted and overwhelmed.  You have lost confidence in yourself, and it frightened you, and it came out as anger.”

“But like _that?_   I swear Galion; I’ve never done that before!  Never!"

“Tell me this, Bard: have you ever had the burdens and cares you’ve had now?  Your daughter was very, very ill, and we still do not know to what extent she will recover.  You are now a King, and you are newly married, to someone of a different race and culture.  You’ve had to learn many, many new things, in a very short time.  The catalyst to your breakdown, I think, was when you had Ina and Iola brought before you, which ultimately ended in violence and death.”

 _“And I made it worse!_   I made everything worse!  I did it!  I don’t deserve Thranduil's forgiveness, even if he offered it."  Bard gasped, trying to get the words out. "I don’t deserve him anymore, Galion." He sobbed.

Galion rubbed Bard’s back some more.  “Would it help to know King Oropher and Queen Lindorië had their fair share of arguments?  What you have described, is not unlike some of the shouting that went on between those two.”

“Did she still love Oropher?”

“With all her heart,” he smirked, “even when she was throwing the crockery at him.”

“I don’t know all that much about Elven marriage, I guess.  I didn’t think Elves could get angry at each other, once their _fëas_ were joined.”

The Aide laughed.  “If that is true, then no one explained that to Oropher, as he was dodging plates.  It was early in their marriage, and Oropher lost his temper and shouted at her, much like you did with Thranduil.  He learned _very quickly_ not to do it again.  I believe you have also learned this lesson, have you not?”

“So, an Elven married couple is not so different, then.”

“Some of it is different, but it is often the same as Men; each day brings challenges, and mistakes can be made.”

“Kings can’t afford to make mistakes, though.  I screwed up, and look what happened: One person is dead, and two almost died!”

“How do you think you are responsible for that?”

“I should have seen it coming!  It’s my job to look for things like that, and I didn’t!”

Galion shook his head, and sighed.  “Oh, Bard, if you truly believe that, then you have made the biggest mistake of all!  It is no wonder you are drowning!  For everyone’s sake, let go of that idea!”

“But so many people depend on me, and if I make _any_ kind of a blunder, it hurts lives.  I _have_ to make all the right decisions!” 

“Bard, what I see, is a Man who is overwhelmed, and trying too hard to keep up, even with his own body!  I know you are working with Feren to regain your coordination, but are you being reasonable with yourself, or do you expect to learn it all in a week or two?”

“There’s _no time_ to ease into anything!”

“So tell me, Bard: If you truly believe that pushing yourself into exhaustion is the only way to cope with this, how is that working?”

“But –“

“If that course of action was reasonable, why did you end up out here?”

Bard looked at him, then looked at the snowy ground again. 

“I do not believe you regret becoming King, nor do I think you regret your marriage at all.  What I _do_ think, is that you feel obliged to be a _perfect_ King, and a _perfect_ father, and a _perfect_ husband.  It is admirable to want do your best, but to never give yourself room for error, will ultimately set you up for failure.  It is the self-fulfilling prophecy, Bard!  Do you not see this?”

Bard sat up straight and looked at the fir tree not far away from where they were sitting.  Galion was right.   His perfectionism had destroyed what he loved most.

_Oh, gods…  The look on Thranduil’s face…_

“How do I go on from here?” Bard whispered. “I don't know anything right now.  I really don’t.”

Galion squeezed his shoulders.  “Bard, perhaps you should not worry what to do just yet.  You are completely worn out, and you cannot make any decisions until after you get some rest.”

“I feel like a limp, dirty dishrag.”  Bard heaved a sigh.  “I can barely even move.”

“We both know you cannot stay out here, but I do not believe you are ready to face anyone just yet.”  Galion, stood up and urged Bard to his feet.  “I have an idea…”

 

*****************

 

As Thranduil began to quiet down again, he remembered his scars, and jerked away in embarrassment.

But Hilda’s arms wouldn’t let him move. “Don’t worry, love.  I know all about that, and I couldn’t care less, except that it hurts you.  You just work on calming yourself, so you can put it back up.”

“How do you know?”

“Bard told me, before he left the first time.  He knew you’d never want the kids to see it, so I’m to watch out, and if your glamour falls, for any reason, I'm to distract the children, and steer them in another direction.  He knew you’d never want to accidentally upset them, and you’ll tell them in your own time.”

“That was… considerate of him.”

“Oh, lovey; he wasn’t just being considerate; that boy _loves_ you, I know it.”

Thranduil swallowed.  “It is my fault he is so upset.  He said I pushed him into being King of Dale, and he is right.  He never wanted this life.”

“Do you think he meant that?  Really?  Or do you think he’s so afraid of being a terrible King, he worked himself into a frenzy?”

He sighed.  “I do not know.  I love him, Hilda.”  Thranduil’s became shaky.  “But it is not just Kingship he's upset about.  I did not know how angry he was about all the changes since we married.  He hates what has happened to him, and he regrets marrying me.”

“He _actually_ told you he wished he’d never married you?  He said those _exact words?”_   Hilda tilted her head and raised her eyebrow.

“No, not exactly, but he did say said he hates not knowing himself.  He was not prepared for that, not with everything else he must do.  He said it’s my fault for pushing him into being a King, and he blames me for being separated from the children, especially when Tilda got so sick.  It’s all too much, and I should have—“

Hilda put her fingers over his mouth.  “Now you just stop, right there.”  She said kindly, but firmly.  “Take a breather and calm yourself, so you can fix your face.  You’ll never be able to work out anything when you’re in pain like that.”

She waited patiently, until Thranduil could collect himself, then he closed his eyes and concentrated.  The pain dulled, and when he felt better, he heaved a sigh of relief.

Hilda watched the full process with wonder. “Good gravy!” She shook her head.  “I’ll never get over how you Elves do that!  When I get old and wrinkled, see what you can do for me, will you?” 

She smiled and patted his hand, then got up and poured him a glass of wine.  “Down the hatch.  All of it.”

Once he had finished it, she poured him another, then said, “I know you and Bard met with those women; last night, you both looked like you’d been run over by a pack of Wargs.  Want to talk about it?”

So, Thranduil told her everything that wasn’t under Seal.  It felt a relief to speak of it, and to share his feelings about it.  He talked with her about the scene they found on the walkway, and what it was like to see such good Elves, and one of his friends, bleed all over the ground.

When he talked himself out, he looked over at Hilda.  Her face was filled with anguish and she was clutching the front of her shirt. “My lands…  Oh, my lands…”

“I do not know what happened on the walkway, yet.  We are sure she had hidden a homemade dagger, made from a nail file, somewhere on her person, and somehow managed to get to it. When her body is recovered, we may know more.”  Then he told her how he and Bard helped to treat the injured, and how Dior’s heart stopped, but then started again, when Bard pounded on it, so furiously.

“I knew Bard was having difficulty, Hilda.  I was trying to give him support; I was trying to help him, but he just… _snapped._   I’ve never seem him like this!”  Thranduil wiped his eyes.  “When I took him out to the gardens, I thought I could help him calm down, but…”  his voice broke.  “He told me how unhappy he was, and how he really felt about marrying me.  That the cost of marrying me was too much for him.  He said he hates how his life has changed, and I did not know this!   How could I not know how unhappy he was?.”

His voice shook, when he asked Hilda, “What do I do?  I love him, and do not know what to do…”  And she held him, again, as he wept.

“Oh, love; no wonder the two of you are worn to rags!  On top of what Tilda’s going through, too?”  She hugged him tighter, “That's too much for _anybody,_ King or no.” 

“But he was right, Hilda.  I am too used to getting my own way.  I did not wait even a day or two, after the Battle, before I pushed him into Kingship!  I pushed him into _everything!_   We were married too soon, Hilda, and it was wrong of me to allow that to happen!  I should have made Bard take more time, to _make sure_ this was what he really wanted.  He’s been alone for a long time - it was not real love for him; but just an infatuation…”

“Look, I know my Bard, and I _know_ he loves you!  Every time you smile, he thinks the sun’s come out.  And, no, it’s _not_ just sex.  Oh, don’t look at me like that…”  She smirked.  “My point is, Bard is plenty old enough, and smart enough to know the difference between infatuation and real, true love.  Anyone with eyes can see how much he adores you.”

Thranduil swallowed, but remained doubtful.  “I never wanted to hurt him by urging him to be a King, or by all the changes he’s going through.  I didn’t know what would happen to him; no one did…  He is in torment, and it is because of me…”.

His eyes closed and he began to cry again.  “I was so happy to not be alone anymore, and to have someone to love; I’ve been so blind – “

“Thranduil, that’s nonsense, and if you’d sit and think on it a while, you’d realize that.  Whatever he said to you had _nothing_ to do with what was really hurting him, can you understand that?”

“But he said –“

“Look, love.  I don’t know how Elves do it, but sometimes, when Men get buried in their own troubles, they can’t even say why they hurt.”

Thranduil was too afraid to believe her; to get his hopes up, again.

 “Oh, lovey...  That boy’s so worn down from worrying about his people, wanting to be a good King, wanting to be a good husband and father, missing you all from Dale, worrying about Tilda...  And look, dealing with those sisters would slam _anybody_ behind the knees, and knock them to the ground!  He was _hurting and afraid,_ Thranduil.  He felt so bad inside, he was grabbing at _anything_ to just get the hurt out!” 

“I want to believe you, but you should have seen him, out in the garden; Bard  _hates_  what I have done to him, and to his life.  I think all of this has made him realized that what he felt for me wasn’t real.”

She sighed, got up, and pulled the Elvenking to his feet.  “Maybe you’re right, or maybe I am.  What I _do_ know, love, is that you’re in no shape to deal with anything, and I know you don't want the children to see you like this.”  She smiled reassuringly up at him.  “Now, come on.”

She took him by the hand and led him into the hallway, but when he tried to approach the doors to his chambers, she steered him in down the Hall.  “Oh, no you don’t.  You need some time apart from things, right now.”

As they walked she said, “Now, Galion and I will take care of everything.  He’s cancelled all your appointments, and sent word to the Healing Hall that you’ll be there tomorrow afternoon,to visit the guards.  We'll will watch over the kids and make sure they get their dinner, and get them to bed.  _You_ are to do _nothing_ but rest, until you can calm yourself, and get your bearings.  I don’t want to see your face until tomorrow, do you hear? 

She stopped in front of an empty guest suite, “There’s plenty of food and wine in there, along with a change of clothes.  I will stay the night with the children,” she grinned, “Under Esta’s supervision, of course.”

“But, what about Bard?”

“We’ve taken care of that, too; it’s all arranged.  He needs some time away just as badly as you do.  Once you two have had a breather, then you can get together and decide how to handle this.”

He kissed her hand.  “Thank you.  You are a treasure, Hilda.”

She reached her arms up to hug him, and told him, softly. “You just look after yourself.  No matter what happens, Thranduil, we all love you dearly, and that will _never_ change. You won’t be getting rid of me so easily, so don’t worry about that.  Just try to calm down, and get some rest; things always seem different, after a decent night’s sleep.  After tomorrow, I'll help you work out what to do about this, yeah?”

He nodded at her through blurred eyes, and swallowed.  "Thank you..."  He managed to give her a weak smile and went into the room…

…to find Bard sitting in a chair by the fireplace.

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Hervenn nîn_ – my husband

 

NOTES:

Bard did what was called a “Precordial thump” on Dior’s chest.  It is not a recommended procedure, and is no longer a part of CPR training.  It looks great in the movies, and it also sounds great in a story, which is why, on my version of Middle Earth, it works miracles.

Just don’t ever try that at home, kids; not without the proper supervision...

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Hilda leads Thranduil to the wrong room.
> 
> Or did she?
> 
> C'mon folks; you HAD to see this coming...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those out there who are sticklers for proper grammar, I apologize in advance for the double-negatives you are about to read.  It was a sacrifice made in the name of art. 
> 
> If it still makes your teeth itch, you’re more than welcome to take it up with Hilda (but you might want to get your affairs in order, first). 
> 
>  

 

**The Woodland Realm, 19 th of February, 2942, T.A.**

 

Thranduil froze in place, with no idea what to do, and from the shocked and uncomfortable look on Bard's face, he didn’t either.

At last, he found his voice, which came out shakier than he’d like.  “I am sorry Bard.  I was told...  Hilda must have made a mistake.  I will go…”

He turned and dove towards the door, and when he opened it…

…there was Hilda, with her hands on her hips. Galion was right behind her, with his arms crossed, looking equally determined.

“There –“  Thranduil started to say.

“No; there is no mix-up.” 

“Did you – “

 _“_ Aye, we set you up.”

“I shoul –“

 “No, you’re not going _anywhere,_ and neither is Bard.”

“You sai…”

“I lied.”

“But…”

“No buts.”

“I do not –“

“Don’t care.”

“I cannot –“

“Yes, you can.”

“Please –“

Hilda let out an exasperated sigh. “Listen up, you two.  You boys have got work this out, one way or another, and the longer you put it off, the worse it’s going to be.  So, you turn right around, and get your arse back in there.  Neither one of you are allowed out, until noon tomorrow; is that clear?”

“But Hilda – “

“Oh, _good!”_ Hilda clapped her hands together, merrily.  “So glad to see you boys understand!” She said with delighted sarcasm.  Then her face became severe and would brook no argument. “I meant what I said: neither one of you are to show your faces until tomorrow.  _After lunch!”_

And with that, she shoved the Elvenking backwards into the room, and gave him kind, but firm look.

“We love you both, very much,” she said.

Then she slammed the door in his face.

 

***************

 

Once the door was shut, Hilda slumped against it, rolled her eyes, and blew out a breath. 

“Do you think it will work?”  Galion murmured. 

“Stars, I hope so.   If it doesn’t, we’re going to spend the rest of our lives, picking up the pieces.  I don’t know about you, but it’s not something _I_ want to be doing, when I’m old and grey.”

“You are not old, and even if your hair turns grey, you will still be a formidable woman.”  The Chief Aide of the Woodland Realm told her, with a smile.

“Oh, pish; I’ve no wish to be formidable.”

“You do not?”

“Course not," she said with a wink and a smile, "I want to be terrifying."

Galion couldn’t help it.  He began to laugh, and after such a stressful afternoon, it felt wonderful.  He nodded his head toward the door, where their Kings were.  “I hope we are doing the right thing, Hilda.”

“Me, too, to be honest.  I knew _something_ was up with Bard, when he came out of the study yesterday; he just wasn’t himself. And then, this morning - Valar… I _still_ can’t believe all that happened on the walkway - the look on Thranduil’s face, when he came in from the Garden, scared the shit out of me! Pardon my Black Speech.”

“He looked like a ghost.”  Galion shook his head.

“What did Bard look like, out there?”

“Just as bad as Thranduil.”

“Poor things.  I wish Percy was here; he always knew how to get Bard back on an even keel; especially after we lost Mattie.”

“Really?  What did he do?”

“When she died, Bard stuffed it all down, and got on with it, like Thranduil did.  But, my Pers could tell when things were getting the better of him, so he’d grab him by the scruff of his neck, and haul him out into the middle of the Lake.”

Galion considered this.  “Bard expects too much from himself.  He is not giving himself time enough to learn, nor is he allowing himself mistakes.”

“Aye; tell me something I _don’t_ know.” She shook her head.  “We’re all going to have to work with him on that.  He’s always taken so much on his shoulders.  It’s a good quality, to be sure, but he needs to learn to forgive himself.”

“May I ask you something?”  Galion was curious.

“Of course, you can, dear.” 

“What did Percy do with Bard, out on the Lake?”

“Well, he made Bard talk about it, whether he liked it or not, then he just let Bard sort it all out.  Sometimes, Bard would talk, other times be angry, and other times, just cry.  And Percy would just sit there, and listen, until Bard would wear himself out.  The first time Pers took him out though, he was so furious, he threatened to throw him out of the boat.  Percy tricked him, you see.”

“Tricked him?”

“Oh, aye!  You think Bard would go willingly, if he knew?”

“I suppose not.  Neither would Thranduil, so I am glad you handled him so well.”  Galion said.  “What happened, when Bard threatened Percy?”

“Percy got right back in his face.  He dared him to try it, and told him he’d be stranded out there if he did.” 

“What did Bard say to that?”

“It stopped him in his tracks.  Percy knew he needed to vent, but wasn’t going to let Bard say or do anything he’d regret; it would just bring guilt and shame on himself, and make things worse.”

“Percy is a wise man.”

“My Pers is a treasure, isn’t he?”  Hilda sighed.  “Stars I miss him.  Well, I think we can be on our way.  If either one of them were going to try to escape, I think they’d have done it, by now.  Did you remember the silencing spell?”

“Of course.”  Galion smiled, offered the lady his arm. 

Hilda smiled, and pushed herself off the door and took Galion’s arm, as they began to slowly walk toward the Royal Chambers.  “You’re no slouch, either, Galion.  You know our Thranduil inside and out.  That was a smart move, sending me in to talk to him. ‘

“It was a _strategic_ move, My Lady.  Many years ago, I made the mistake of allowing Thranduil to pull rank and turn me away, when I knew he needed help.  You and your Percy had a much easier time with Bard.”

“Oh, you think so?”  Hilda huffed.

“May I remind you that Thranduil has dungeons?”

“Ah.” She nodded.  “Good point.  He wouldn’t do that, would he?” 

“Well, he wouldn’t dare do that with _you_.” Galion chuckled.  “I _do_ know him like I know myself.  I’ve loved him, and taken care of him, since the day he was born, and I was not going to take a chance, today.  He was going to listen, or face your wrath.”

“Well-played, love!”  Hilda grinned.

“Thank you.  Although I would have liked to watch my King try order _you_ to go away.”  He smiled down at her, and added.  “I knew you would do what was right, no matter how much he blustered and huffed.”

Hilda’s face fell.  “That’s just it, Galion; he wasn’t blustery at all.  He was… _devastated._  It just broke my heart to see him like that. ”  She nudged him.  “That boy was like an abandoned child; and I could barely keep from crying, myself, he was so hurt.”

Galion patted her hand.  “Bard was the same way, when I found him in the garden.  He was heartsick. I managed to let him cry it out, and tried to calm him, as much as I could, but I do not know how much I really helped him.”

“The only ones who can really help, is each other, and I hope they find a way to see that, love.” She sighed. “This has just _got_ to work, or we’re doomed here.”

“I am praying earnestly, for them and for all of us.”

When they stopped at the door to Thranduil’s chambers, Hilda turned to him, with a worried look.  “I don’t want the children to have _any_ inkling of this.   If there’s bad news, then we’ll deal with it as it comes, but I don’t think they need to be upset, unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“I agree.  What do we tell them?”

“Well, we won’t lie; we’ll just say that their Das got called away overnight for something important, that it’s King’s business, and no one can talk about it.”

“That is perfect.  I have promised Bard to take Sigrid aside and talk with her.  Perhaps you could help?”

“Aye.  She didn’t deserve that tongue-lashing, but she needs to understand where she went wrong.”

“I think she understands that now, but we will make sure she feels better about it.  The children will be late today.  Falarion made sure their ride will be long, to get them out of the way of the cleanup.  Daeron has taken charge of the other children in the indoor arena for some physical exercise.  The very young ones are with their mothers.”

“Good idea.  The exercise will do them a world of good.  Now, you and I have the Little Bean all to ourselves.”

“Let us hope tomorrow is better.”

Hilda patted his arm.  “We’ve done all we can, love. It’s up to them, now, and if those two can’t get out of their own way, there’s nothing to be done.”

Galion sighed, “No, there is not, but we shall wait, and hope, and look after our family, as best we can.”

Hilda turned to look at him, with a reassuring smile. “You’ll always have a friend in me, Galion, no matter what happens.”

“As will you, My Lady.”  He kissed her hand, and they went in to see Tilda, and wait for the other children.

As Galion followed his good friend into the King’s chambers, he resolved to send a message to Mithrandir, as soon as possible.  He had questions, about Bard's behavior, that urgently needed answers.  There was more at work here than just frustration and fear; he was sure of it.

Either way, insight from the Wizard would be needed, if Bard and Thranduil couldn’t overcome their problems.

 

***************

 

Thranduil stood frozen to the spot, blinking at the heavy wooden door for several minutes. 

Right at this moment, this was the last place on Middle Earth he wanted to be.  He did not want to face Bard, because doing so would take away almost everything that meant the world to him...  and he wasn’t ready for it.

He wasn’t ready to be left alone again...

He’d been so wrong!  If this was a true Elven marriage, this wouldn’t even be happening; _nothing_ would break their bond, and his misunderstandings of Bard’s feelings would never have gotten this far. 

But it wasn’t a “real” Elven marriage, was it?  It was something completely different, and he had no idea whether their bond could be broken by force of will, or not.  He tried to look inside of himself, to see if he could feel Bard, but there was so much hurt and fear, he couldn’t feel anything else, right now.  What if their _fëas_ had truly sundered? What if they had never truly joined?  Both could be true, from what Bard had said - he couldn’t even repeat Bard’s words in his mind, they were so painful and unexpected. 

How could he have been so blind, to Bard’s unhappiness? Why did he not know?

Thranduil was very tempted to just open the door and leave anyway, but he suspected Hilda and Galion were standing guard outside, preventing escape.

He heard no noise behind him, so Bard must hate this, too.

He sighed. 

He couldn’t stand here like this, forever.  

There were changes that would need to take place.  _Valar,_ the thought of all that, squeezed his chest so hard he couldn’t breathe…   Of course, Bard would want to leave, and of course, he would want his children with him, in Dale.  So many details that were the business of ending a relationship. 

_Oh, Valar… the children…_

He had made _such_ a mistake, and they will feel the worst of it.  Through his own selfishness and short-sightedness, he had wrought heartache on children he loved dearly.  How will he be able to live with that?

He swallowed down his anguish, sighed, then turned to go into the room.  He saw a tray on the side board, filled with food and a pitcher of wine.  He couldn’t even think about food, but he needed something to dull the ache.  He poured himself a glass, then went to sit in the other chair to look at the flames in the fireplace. 

He never looked up at Bard once.

Thranduil heard him heave a sigh, and listened, as he, too got up to pour himself a drink.  Even when Bard sat back down, he resolutely kept his eyes on the flames.  His insides were shaking so badly, he wondered why his teeth didn’t rattle.

“You look terrible.” Bard whispered. 

That was not what he expected to hear, and Thranduil looked over at him, before he could stop himself.

Bard was a _mess._ He looked unkempt and his hair was all over the place.  His eyes were swollen and red, his face was splotchy, and streaked with dried tears.

“You do not look much better.”  Was the only response that came to him.

Again, the heavy silence fell between them, and seemed to go on endlessly.

Thranduil was still pretending to be engrossed in the flames, but he knew he could delay no longer.  A calm, businesslike approach would be the best way to get through the perdition to come.

He took a breath, to collect himself, then began. 

“Hilda is right, Bard.  We must come to some sort of arrangement, if only for the children’s sake.  Of course, you will never have to worry about your people, I am committed to help Dale in every way possible, as I have said many times and you have my Royal Seal on that.  I will continue to host and educate your people here, and make sure they are cared for, until the spring, and beyond.  Nothing will change, as far as any agreements between the Northern Kingdoms.  We cannot jeopardize the entire region, because you and I made an impulsive mistake.”

He could sense Bard stiffen, and heard his sharp intake of breath.  But he needed to finish this now, or he’d never be able to.

“I believe the children are better off and safer here, but if you want them with you, I will respect that, and I will not stand in your way.  Please believe me, if you allow them to remain, they will still receive all the love and care as before.  I would never hurt them.  Rhys, of course is my ward, so he must remain, until Alun sends for him.  If you choose to take the children – “  He had to stop and catch his breath. He disguised his anguish by taking a large swallow of wine. “I would very much like to make sure Tilda has everything she needs in Dale, if you will allow it.”

“Do you _want_ me to leave, Thranduil?”  Bard’s voice was so quiet, it was barely audible.

Thranduil couldn’t respond.  It didn’t matter what he wanted, it only mattered what was _right,_ and he wasn’t about to let Bard make another mistake, this time motivated by guilt.  He desperately wanted Bard to stay, but _not_ because he felt bad about revealing how he truly felt.  Thranduil couldn’t live like that. To be with someone who didn’t really want him, who was only with him out of guilt or duty, or for the sake of the children, would be worse than all those years he spent alone.

 “I will make other accommodations for myself, so the children are not disrupted.  I think it will also be easier for Tilda to be in familiar surroundings until she is ready to be moved.  Please, take all the time you need, for their sake.  I will not pressure you.”

He heard the exhaustion and distress in Bard’s voice. “I’ll do whatever you want, Thranduil. I really don’t blame you, for hating me, right now.”

Still not looking at him, Thranduil ran his hands over his face.  “I simply did not know how you really felt, Bard.  You are right, in what you said; I _did_ push you into Kingship, and it was wrong of me.  I did not give you a chance to consider much of anything and that was terribly unfair.  I did not set out to manipulate you, but now, I realize that I did, and I am sorry.  I thought about what you said, and I understand why you feel trapped.  I…  never meant to -”  He took a drink, and did his best to stop his hands from shaking.

Bard just stared at the floor with his drink in his hand, saying nothing. 

Which said _everything._

Another deep breath, then another, and he forced himself to go on.  “I am… sorry, for all burdens thrust upon you in such a short time.  I should have seen how unhappy you were, and I did not, because it never occurred to me to really look, Bard.  I’m…so very sorry about your difficulties and struggles since our marriage.  No one could predict what would happen to you, and for that reason alone, I should have insisted you take time to consider your decision.  Something like that should be thought through for months, maybe even years, not the very night the choice was put before you, Bard.  I was selfish; I should have –“

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bard put his face in his hand, Thranduil had to regroup, for a minute, before he could continue:

“Neither of us had anyone for many years, and it was only natural to feel excitement and joy at physical closeness,  and I can see I read too much into it.  It was wrong of me to assume, without taking the time to be sure…”  His voice broke completely, but he managed to say, “I am sorry, Bard.  I do not want you to be unhappy, and I will do everything in my power to rectify my mistake.”

 He could not stop the tears, no matter how hard he tried, so he shielded his face and hid behind his fingers.  He looked down and studied his wineglass, and how the flames shone through vine and leaf pattern etched into the glass.  He made himself see how it reflected so beautifully on the dark, red wine.  He told himself how the swirl of colors was interesting, and that he should try to paint this, but, he knew he wouldn’t.  After this, he’d never be able to see these glasses again.

Still, in this moment, these moving, sparkling colors were all he had, and he studied the flames through the cut glass, so intensely it seemed like he was putting himself under a spell.  He had to: otherwise, he’d break down completely, and beg his husband to stay.  Pressuring Bard would only make him feel guilty, and he wouldn’t do that to either of them.  He had to find the courage to allow Bard to find peace, again.

His heart started to pound, and although he was doing his best not to show it, his chest began to rise and fall, rapidly, despite himself.

_Do not react.  Show nothing.  Don’t make it hard for Bard.  Do not react.  Show nothing.  Do not react.  Show nothing.  Look at the flames… See how they dance through the glass… Do not react.  Show nothing…_

He was so busy repeating this mantra to himself, he didn’t notice Bard’s movements, or register that there were arms snaking about his waist, or that there was face now buried in the curve of his hip. 

The feel of warm trembling pulled him back into awareness.  Bard’s was crying, and if Thranduil thought his heart could not hurt more, he was wrong.

“Please Thranduil… I’m so sorry…  Gods, you have to believe me; I know I said some terrible things, and I hurt you and I’m so sorry.”

Thranduil took several deep breaths, and tried to stop him.  “I understand, Bard.  I know you do not wish to hurt me, but you were right to tell me the truth.” 

“No…no… don’t –“

“You were right, Bard.  I allowed my own feelings to push you into a life you might not have really wanted.  I never let you take the time to really think it over, did I?  I was selfish, and look what I’ve done to you!  I hurt you, and you are the last person in the world…”

Bard’s shoulders began to shake and Thranduil felt the arms tighten around him.  “Please, don’t send me away.  I hurt you; I know…  I made a mess of us, but… please; forgive me.  You have to forgive me…” 

Thranduil closed his eyes tightly; this was unbearable.  “Oh, Bard… of course I forgive you, but there really is nothing to forgive.  I know you _wish_ you felt differently.  I know you have tried very hard to feel what you think is right for everyone, but you cannot hide the truth inside yourself.  Look what happened today, Bard!  You’ve been holding it in, and pretending, so you would not hurt my feelings, or upset the children.  You try so hard to be everything everyone wants you to be, but you _must_ be true to yourself! You have that right, Bard.”

Bard’s shoulders were shaking with sobs, and his head was still hidden.  Thranduil’s eyes closed, because he still loved the warmth of Bard’s embrace.  And he would miss it; Stars…he would miss this…

“I will always be grateful that you wanted to spare me, but in the end, it come out anyway, did it not?  You _mus_ t do what is necessary to be happy, and you must let go of your guilt.  You did the best you could; I know this.  We must think of the children, Bard. They do not deserve to have a father who is so miserable.”

Thranduil could barely understand Bard’s words, now, because they were coming out as sobs.  “I can’t... Please… I hurt you, and I’m so sorry…” he whimpered.  “Oh, gods… please…tell me you don’t hate me, after all I said…  I know I deserve it…. But I couldn’t survive it if…”    

Thranduil’s hands were trembling so badly, he barely managed to get his wineglass on the side table. They shook as they hovered over Bard’s head, and his fingers curled up for a moment, before he opened his fists, and finally allowed his fingers to rest among Bards beautiful black curls.

“Of course, I do not hate you, Bard.  I love you enough to let you go, if that is best.”

Bard whispered.  “Please… I’m sorry…  I’m so sorry…” he said, between sobs.

Thranduil eyes were still closed tightly.  “I know you feel guilty, but please; do not make this harder.  I know you do not want to go back to being alone, and neither do I, but that is not a good enough reason to stay with me, and be unhappy.  Bard, I cannot live like that, and I know you cannot, either.  We must have the courage to admit it and…” 

“No!  NO!” he cried.  “Don’t do this!”  Bard grabbed his hands and pressed them over Thranduil’s heart, pushing into him to the point of pain, his words came out between uneven gasps.

“I… love you…  my life with you…  gods…  I love our family… and our home, but even if we didn’t have any of that, Thranduil…I would still love _you._   You know me, Thranduil.  _You know me!_   It doesn’t matter what the Valar wanted… or what Mírelen or even Mattie wants us to do…. It doesn’t matter what the children want, either… All that matters,” Bard sobbed, and pushed into his chest again, and squeezed his hands.  “ _all I know,_ is that… I love you, with all my heart, Thranduil...   _You_ are my home. My h-home is here!” He pushed over Thranduil’s heart again. “Please… tell me I didn’t lose you...  I’d have n-nothing left!  Nothing!  Bloody fuck, I made this such a mess!”

Bard’s words were frantic, hysterical.  “I can’t go back to being alone,” he gasped a few times, “...I can’t have any kind of life if you d-don’t want me anymore...  Tell me you still feel me!  Please, tell me it’s not too late.  Tell me I didn’t ruin us.  Oh, gods…”

“Bard…”  Thranduil opened his eyes, and for the first time since they were in the garden, they really looked into each other’s eyes.  Bard’s tear-streaked face was pale from guilt, torment and fear, but he could also see something else…

Bard squeezed his hands again, and begged him, as he pushed into Thranduil’s heart, and he could barely gasp out the frenzied words, as he begged.  “Please... t-tell me I’m still… in there…  you _have to_ still feel me!  I don’t know what to do…  tell me what to do… help me, please… Oh, Valar, please, _please_ love me…  You have to love me, or I c-can’t…”

Bard couldn’t talk anymore.  He lowered his head again and curled into himself as his body was racked with his sobs, and he gripped Thranduil’s hands so hard, they were crushing his fingers.

Thranduil’s fingers hurt, but suddenly, he didn’t care. 

Bard could break every single bone in them, and the Elvenking wouldn’t care, because _finally_ , the walls around Thranduil’s heart, the ones he’d huddled behind like a wounded animal, came down, in the face of all that Bard was saying, and by the agony and earnest emotion on his husband’s face.

Before he knew it, he was off the chair, and kneeling on the rug with his Bard, as they buried each other in a tight, warm, cocoon of arms, tears, kisses, and forgiveness.  They stayed that way for a long, long time, holding each other and crying from relief.

“I l-love you s-so…”  Bard tried to talk, but couldn’t catch his breath, so Thranduil just held him and rubbed his back.

“I love you, too, Bard.  I don’t ever want you to be unhappy.”

“No…” Bard said, as he panted.  “I know w-what I said… I didn’t m-mean it, love.  I really didn’t.  This is all my f-fault… I don't know why I-I...”  Bard hung on to him desperately, as he began to gasp and cry again.

“Please, Bard… Shhh...  Do not cry.  It will be all right…”   Thranduil began to rock him. 

“I h-hurt you.  I’m s-sorry… I…” Bard’s breathing became worse and he couldn’t catch his breath.

“Shh…  Just breathe, _Meleth_ _nîn_.” Thranduil spoke softly, hoping to calm him down. “Just let me hold you, and breathe.  We need to talk about this, but, first, you must calm yourself.”  The shoulder of his tunic was soaked with tears, and Bard bunched the fabric in his tunic and shook with sobs for what seemed like ages.  Thranduil whispered comfort to him, and kept soothing him, until finally, his Bowman could take full, deep breaths again.  For a long time, he just rested, with his head on Thranduil’s shoulder, and concentrated on breathing normally.

At last, Bard lifted his head, and began to wipe his eyes on his sleeve.  When Thranduil reached in his pocket to hand his handkerchief over, and despite his upset, Bard burst into laughter.  When he got out another one to wipe his own face, they both did. 

“How many of these damned things do you own?” Bard asked, with a raspy, hoarse voice. 

Thranduil smiled through his own tears. “Galion thinks I give too many away; he has taken to putting one in every pocket.”

“Oh, bless him.”  Bard wiped his face off.  “We do need to talk about it - you’re right.  But I need some water first.  My throat hurts, and I feel so…limp.”

“Of course.” He got up and brought Bard to his feet. “Come, and remove your boots.” Thranduil settled him on the bed, before he fetched the food and drinks and sat beside him.  They both drank a couple of glasses of water, before he’d let Bard have more wine.

“Do you feel more comfortable?  Would you like something to eat?”

“I don’t think I can eat right now; maybe later.”

Thranduil held him, and ran his fingers ran through the thick, dark curls against his chest, as he rested his cheek on Bard’s head.  He waited in silence, to let Bard speak, in his own time.

“It’s been a whirlwind, and I’ve been trying so hard to keep up with it all,”. Bard began, quietly. “Knowing you and falling in love with you is wonderful - don’t ever doubt that.  But it’s all the rest of it!  I was overwhelmed, and I just... lost my way...”  Bard looked up at him. “I’m so sorry.  I could say it a million times, and it wouldn’t be enough.” 

“I understand, Bard; you’ve done well, and I am proud of you.  I really am.  You are the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t feel strong; I feel… unworthy, and... I don't know... buried alive, sometimes.”  Bard looked up at him.  “But don’t ever, _ever_ think you’re a part of that burden.  Please.  I was wrong to let you think that, even for a second.” His eyes began to fill, again.  “I was horrible to you…”

Thranduil stroked his hair.  “I could see the anguish in you; I could feel it.  Please, tell me what to do, so I can help you.”

“I _wanted_ to be King; you didn’t push me!  You didn’t!  I _want_ to help my people, and make Dale the best it can be.  It’s just... all so new; _everything is so new_ , and there’s nothing to be done about it, except keep on keeping on.  It would be a hundred times harder, if I didn’t have you, or Hilda and Percy, or Galion…  But I would _still_ do it, even if I was on my own.  You believe me, don’t you?”

“I do.  I also know you _cannot_ do it alone, Bard.  _No_ King can do it alone.  I am always happy to support you, you know that.”

Bard said nothing, but sighed.

Thranduil gave him a reassuring smile, then said, “I know our little Tilda’s illness hurts us very much.  And there are times that telling ourselves to keep going does not help, does it?” Thranduil sighed.  “It is agony to see her so unwell.  We will have many moments when that struggle will be too much, I think.” 

“I hate that you’re right about that.”  Bard sighed, and leaned his head into Thranduil’s shoulder.

Thranduil kissed his hair.  “I also know that you have had your first experience at passing judgement as King.  That will never be easy, Bard, but you were faced with a heartbreaking circumstance.  You did do well, but I could see it was haunting you, and I am sorry for it.”

“It will haunt me, for a long time, but what happened on the walkway was my fault…”  Bard’s voice began to wobble again.

“Why do you say this, _Meleth nîn?_ You could not have known what would happen!”

“Because it’s true, Thranduil. When I saw guards and all that blood, I knew I’d made a mistake and now someone’s dead!”

“No, Bard…”

“Yes!  _I_ was the one who asked you to treat those two women with kindness and patience, didn’t I?  I had this…stupid, _naive_ idea that we could somehow rehabilitate them.  I wrote you and asked you to give them the benefit of the doubt.  And look what happened!  She made a weapon and nearly killed two of your Guards, and one of them was your friend!  _I fucked up, Thranduil!”_

“Bard, you could not have known what would happen!  If anything, _I_ should bear the blame, too.  When she appeared calm and submissive in my office, I sensed it was false, but I said nothing!  I should have alerted Dior of my suspicions, but I did not.  Dior and Elion were there, and they both saw what she was.  I am completely sure they were careful, alert, and checked for hidden weapons.  This their job, Bard, and they are trained to watch prisoners, when taking them to the dungeons!  Please, _Meleth nîn;_ just as we must lay the guilt at Ioan’s feet for all this pain and destruction, lay this guilt and blame at Iola’s feet.    _She fooled us all_ , do you not understand that?  She is the _only_ one at fault.”

“She would never have had a chance to even make that weapon, if I hadn’t ordered them to back off-“

“Bard, _stop this!”_ Thranduil shook him, gently.  “Look at me!" He took Bard's face in his hands, and stared intensely into his eyes. "Regardless of what was done or not done, we were _all_ deceived.  It is not a matter of blame; you _cannot_ do this to yourself!  Are you not the one who says never to play ‘what ifs?’  Are you not the one who calls it ‘shoulding all over yourself?’  You are a King, yes, but you are _first_ _a_ _Man_ , and there will be times when the best you can possibly do will not be good enough, and _you_ _must_ _accept_ _this_!”

Bard looked at him, trying to contemplate his words.  “What do you do, when you make a mistake as a King?  Do you even make mistakes?”

“Yes, Bard, I do!   I have made many mistakes as a King, and yes, sometimes they have cost lives, and it will always haunt me.   It is part of the burden of Kingship, though I wish I could tell you it were not so.  

“Bard, you are a strong person, and you are a strong King, because your strive to do what is right in all things.  Yet, you  _will_ make mistakes; sometimes small, sometimes huge and terrible.  You will feel inadequate, weak, and unworthy, but you must _**never**_ let that stop you from moving on and doing right by your people.  Please, please, _Meleth nîn._   You must find a way to get past this, or you will destroy yourself, and all you love.”

He felt a sigh, then heard his Bowman’s tired voice.  “You’re right.  Galion told me I expect too much of myself.”

“He was right.  He has always supported me, when I felt I was drowning, or when I felt guilt over a misjudgment.  Now, we both are fortunate, because we have each other, and our family.  We do not have to bear these burdens alone, _Meleth nîn.”_

“I can’t believe I took it all out on you!  You want to know the worst part?  After all those terrible things I said, it didn’t even _touch_ what was going on inside.  Does that make sense?”

“It does. Perhaps you could not understand what you were really thinking or feeling until you flung it all out in front of you.  I have done this, too, and should have seen that for what it was.”

“But I wasn’t just trying to figure things out, I was angry, and I was _trying_ to hurt you, too!  That’s the truth of it…”  Bard choked up.  “I felt so bad, and I wanted to hurt anybody or anything in my path, until they were in as much pain as I was!   You’re the _one_ person in this world I’d never want to hurt, and because I know you so well, I knew _just_ what to say to rip you apart!  It was like this… _thing_ in me was choking me, trying to get out, no matter what the cost!”  Bard swallowed, a few times, and had to wipe his eyes again.  “You’ve never purposely set out to hurt somebody you love!”

Thranduil gave his Bowman an incredulous look.  “And how do you know that?  Of course, I have!  You are not the only person who has said and done unforgivable things, Bard!”

“What do you mean?”

Thranduil sighed, and rubbed his forehead.  “I know I told you about Tauriel confronting me during the Battle, and of course you know she raised her weapon to me.  But do you know the things I said to her?  I treated _my_ _own_ _daughter_ like she was insignificant!  When I realized that Legolas had feelings for her, I told her that she was inferior, because she was Silvan, and not good enough for my son!  I let her think I didn’t care about her at all, because I was afraid my son would get hurt. Would you ever do that?

“And did I tell you that, during the Battle, when she was desperate for me to save the one she loved, I _raised my own sword_ to her throat, and let her think I was ready to strike her down?”  The Elf winced at the memory.  “Bard, what you said and did was unfounded and meant to cause hurt.  What you said was born from the things you feared most, but have you ever raised a weapon to your own child?  Have you?”

Bard just looked at him in shock.

Thranduil continued.  “I will play those scenes in my head over and over for the rest of my existence.  I will _never_ forget the look on my Tauriel’s face when the point of my sword was at her jugular, or the angry...” his voice broke, “disgusted look on Legolas’s face when he had to rescue her.  Did any of your children fear for their lives around you? ”

Bard still couldn't find anything to say.

"When I lost my temper with Ina about Rhys's bruises, when the woman cowered and raised her arms to protect herself, she had the same look of terror on her face as my own daughter did!  

 

“But—“

”No, Bard, it is _not_ different!  And you and I must always struggle to forgive ourselves, do you not see?  It is one thing to hate what you did; I understand that, but if you use your mistakes as an excuse to hate _yourself_ , and punish yourself for the rest of your days, it will destroy any chance we have to be happy!”

He had to stop for a moment, and collect himself, and said in a rough voice.  “You must understand, _Meleth nîn_ , we _cannot_ make the mistake of thinking we must be infallible! If we are going to have a successful marriage, we must understand that neither of us is perfect, and we have many flaws.  Some are small, and some are glaring chasms in our character.  But all we can do is our best, for ourselves and each other.  The same is true for Kingship.  Do your best, Bard, always, but when you make a mistake, you must forgive yourself; we must forgive each other.  Always."

“You’re right.” Bard sighed and held him tighter.  “Looks like we’re both arseholes.”

“We are.” Was Thranduil’s whispered response.  ‘Arseholes’ with crowns.”

“Speak for yourself.  I haven’t been crowned, yet.”

Despite his smile, Thranduil had to ask, “Was there any truth in your words, about hating the way your body works now?”

Bard sighed.  “Yes and no, and really, it’s my own fault.  I’ve been working hard with Feren to learn control and a new way of doing things.   Yes, losing my archery skills was a huge blow, but Feren promises it will come back better than ever.  Problem is, I’m too impatient; I want it _now,_ and told myself I had to, because I have too much to do as a King.  It eats at me, that I can’t lead my people in battle, right now.”

“Has Feren seen your frustration?”

Thranduil heard a laugh.  “Trust me, Feren knows how fed up I get with it. But he’s a good friend, and just lets me walk it off, then we get back to work.  He wants me to stop pressuring myself, too.”

“He is right.  Why did you not tell me all this?  I would have also encouraged you, I want to know about everything that upsets and frustrates you.”

“Well, firstly, I was afraid you’d think I regretted marrying you, which, when you found out, that’s exactly what you thought, and second…”  Bard hesitated.  “Don’t laugh…”

“Why would I laugh?”

“I don’t like the idea of you seeing me so… awkward.  I like to impress you.  It’s stupid pride, I know, but I love the way you look at me when you’re all turned on, and want to jump my bones, right then and there.”

Thranduil laughed softly.  “I suppose I would feel the same.  So, we know that, of course, our daughter’s illness is bearing down on you, and adjusting to Kingship and your new life, also weighs you down.  We also know that you have unrealistic expectations for yourself, which you need to let go of.  But, Bard, you have been especially anguished, since you’ve dealt with the sisters; I have seen it and it has worried me.  Can you tell me what is so wrong?  I think that is also a big reason behind your anger and upset.”

Bard sat silent for a minute or two, then began.  “Those sisters were sitting in front of me, and…  it seemed so unfair.  The Valar intervened for you and me, so we could be together; why didn’t they intervene for _them?_   I don’t understand it, and I can’t… I don’t know how to accept it. 

“It _terrifies_ me, that good people live with such suffering their entire lives, and die just as hopeless. How am I supposed to have faith in _anything,_ if that is true?  Now, everything feels different, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Did you even know such situations existed before this?”

“Yes, and even when Alun told me, I didn’t let it register.  It was always one of those things that you push out of your mind, but yesterday, I was slammed into it, and it just...”

As Thranduil continued to stroke his hair, Bard’s words continued to pour out of him. 

“When I saw what happened this morning… something just… _broke_ inside.  I felt like I had caused it, and it pushed me to a place I don’t even recognize.  Facing the Dragon, and all those Orcs was easier, if you can believe it; it’s easy to _know_ who the enemy is.  But here was Ina, who’d had all the happiness and faith in herself beaten out of her.  Then Alwyn gave her a chance at happiness, but it, too, was taken away!  Why didn’t the Valar see fit to help her, when they’ve done so much to help us?  Do they love us more than her?

“Iola was _so_ much worse, because her own reality was a lie!  She didn’t have the _ability_ to understand the truth, because she couldn’t even tell what it was!  What do I do with that?  What can _any of us_ do, Thranduil, if our worst enemy is ourselves?  That scares me, down to my bones, because, I can’t help but think, what if that happens to me?  Or one of the children?”

“Oh, _Meleth nîn…”_   He held Bard even closer, and kissed his head.  “These are frightening things to contemplate.”

“I feel helpless, in the worst way.  I can never keep my children completely safe.  I can never completely protect my people; I can’t do it.  I don’t know how to get past how much that hurts.”

“I am familiar with that feeling.  We love that illusion, do we not?  We tell ourselves we can fully protect ourselves, and those we love.  Everyone has that lie in them, and everyone relies on it.”  

“How so?”

“Well, we cling to it, because it gives us courage to carry on, in the face of any danger.  But there are terrible days, _Meleth nîn,_ when that lie is ripped from our eyes, and we are left feeling naked and trembling with fear.”

Bard shook his head.  “Any other day, I might not have blown up like I did.”

“That is also true, Bard.  We get triggered by things, often unexpectedly, and it is never easy, especially as Kings, although I wish it were not so.”

 Bard sighed again, and hugged him, a little tighter.  “I must have felt like a stranger to you, in the Garden.  I felt like a stranger to myself.” He blew out a breath.  “And Sigrid…”

“I know you feel terrible, but you were not completely wrong, Bard.  She should _not_ have left the Dining Hall.   She ignored her guards, then her Auntie Hil, when she tried to call her back.  She put herself in danger by doing so.  When you told her to leave, she argued with _you_ , her King, which she should never, _ever_ do.” 

“Aye, your right, but I was already out of control, and that’s on me.”

“Yes, you were, but you will work it out with her.  Hers was a misguided impulse to be sure, but her desire to be of help speaks to her excellent qualities.  Sigrid will learn wisdom and temperance over time.”  Thranduil laughed.  “Just like her fathers.”

“When I saw her there, I just… ”

“Ah.  You do not like the idea of our children out in a dangerous world, either.”

“Not today.  I mean, I’ll _never_ be happy about it, but today, I needed to her _away_ from that; I felt like I had caused it, and if Sigrid came anywhere near it…”

“Have you spoken with her, yet?”

“Galion promised he’d talk to her.  I couldn’t face her, or anyone, really.  I felt like you and me…” Bard rubbed his chest.  “I couldn’t feel you, and I thought I broke us.”  He had to stop and take a breath.

“But you did not break us.  _We_ did not break us.”

“We just hid from each other for a little while.”

“You are right.  I am good at putting up walls to protect myself.”  Thranduil kissed his hair.  “One of my many flaws.”

“Maybe I was hiding too, behind my guilt and fear.”

Thranduil smiled.  “And while we were hiding, it would seem Galion and Hilda formed a ‘battle plan,’ of sorts?”

He felt Bard chuckle against his chest.  “Galion told me I needed time alone, to calm down and rest, and assured me I ‘wouldn’t be disturbed.’”  He snorted.

“Hilda said the same, to me.”  Thranduil sighed.  “I _hate_ that she is _always_ right!  Even when she is wrong, she _always ends up being right!”_

“It’s annoying; I admit.  I’ve no doubt all this was Hilda’s idea,” Bard snickered, “but they saved us, love.”

“I think so, too.”  Thranduil smiled, and kissed his hair.  “I wish you could have seen those two, when I opened the door to leave, Bard.”

“I heard her.  There’s no arguing with that tone of voice.  Galion was there, too?”

“Oh, yes!  She is a bad influence on him, but I think I like it.”

“Galion told me about your Mam’s temper.”

“Oh?”

“Seems she didn’t like being yelled at, either.  I suppose I’m lucky you didn’t try to break anything over my head.”

Thranduil laughed.  “I forgot about that story.”

“He also said your parents adored each other.”

“They did.  They were wonderful parents.” The Elf sighed.  “I hope they have found their way back to each other.  Just as I hope your parents are together again.”

 “Will our lives always be this tumultuous?” Bard wondered.

Thranduil chuckled as he stroked his husband’s hair.  “We are fathers, and we are Kings, _Meleth nîn;_  it is hard to say which will cause more chaos.  But, I do not think we will always have a difficult time with things. We have only been together for a brief time, and do not know one another very well, yet.”

“I never thought about it that way, but it’s true.  I feel a part of you, but there’s a lot about you I honestly don’t know.”

“We will learn more about each other and better ways to respond; I am sure of it.”

Bard lifted his head up, and looked into his eyes.  “I know we married fast, but don’t _ever_ think I regret it.  I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am, for making you think I did.  I’d marry you and join with you again, a thousand times over.  We belong to each other, Thranduil, and I’ll never let anything come between us like that, again; I promise.”

He looked down into Bard’s face, and stroked his cheek with his knuckles.  “Thank you, _Meleth nîn.”_

 Bard sighed, and settled into his chest. “I’m too tired to eat, but I think we should.  I lost my breakfast over the railing, and I haven’t eaten, since.”

Thrandiul sat up and grabbed the tray, and some napkins.  “Then we shall eat, and then we will to try to rest.”

They fed each other a decent meal, and then took off their clothes and crawled into bed, to wrap themselves around each other.

“I love you so much, Thranduil.”

Thranduil held Bard’s face in his hands, and looked into his lovely, warm hazel eyes. “Bard, I will _never_ stop loving you.  You are my forever, and I am yours." 

Then he kissed him.  It was deep and heartfelt.  This was a kiss from the purest, deepest part of him, and when Bard responded in kind, their wounded and weary spirits began to heal.

They lay facing each other, holding hands between them, and looked into each other’s eyes for a long time, until they finally closed, and they drifted off to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard and Thranduil time in 'captivity' is well-spent, and they learn new things about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to wish all of my wonderful Readers (and you know who you are!) the happiest of Holiday Seasons, whatever your beliefs, whatever you celebrate. This is a time to reach out to those you care about, and I certainly care about all of you.
> 
> I appreciate all the wonderful, encouraging comments you all have given me, ever since I ventured into the world of writing and started this "Two Thrones" series last May. I feel I have made new friends and have learned a great deal from this experience.
> 
> Special shout out to my "Superfan," Leemitage, who has NEVER failed to make time out of her busy day to read my work, talk to me about my efforts. You're a jewel, Adele!
> 
> Much love to all, and best wishes for a prosperous and fulfilling New Year!

  

**The Woodland Realm; 19 th of February, 2942 T.A.**

Bard woke up that evening with a sigh of satisfaction.  Since he’d come back to the Palace, he and Thranduil hadn’t had a chance to sleep in the nude, and he loved how warm and cocooned he felt, wrapped in his Elf’s arms.  Humming softly, he snuggled in, for a moment or two more.

As he began to blink into awareness, he felt a little confused.  This wasn’t their bedroom.  He automatically glanced to his left, where the door to the nursery –

—wasn’t there. Bard blinked a few times.  Thranduil was here; he had just shifted and moved his hand to rest in Bard’s hair...

Then, in an instant, the memories of the last thirty hours crashed into him, he was suddenly filled with anxiety.  He rolled over, grabbed his middle, and curled into a ball.

He heard Thranduil’s sleepy voice.  “Bard?  Are you well?”  The Elvenking’s long arms reached for him again, and brought him back, without opening his eyes.  “What is it, _Meleth_ _nîn_?”

Bard sunk into him, and brought his breathing back under control.

“Did you have a nightmare?” 

“No.  I just… woke up and remembered everything.”

He felt several kisses in his hair.  “All that matters, is that we are here, together, and we are better, _Meleth nîn.”_  

Bard draped his arm around Thranduil’s middle, and listened to the sound of his heartbeat.  “I made you stop believing in us.”  His breath caught.

“And yet, here we are.”

“Thank Ulmo and all the Valar.”  Bard couldn’t stop the tears that filled his eyes.  “I love you so much.”

Thranduil stretched, and roll over to face him.  His pale face looked better, the swelling around his eyes was almost gone, and there was only a touch of redness.  The dullness had left his eyes, had now sparkled a clear, grey-blue.  His long, smooth fingers stroked through Bard’s hair, before he leaned over to kiss him.

He thought he might never again feel those lips; or to feel Thranduil’s tongue seek entrance and explore his mouth.  Bard couldn’t stop himself from burying his fingers in his hair, and he whimpered as their kiss deepened.  He felt Thranduil’s hand on his back, then move down to his hip, then lift Bard’s leg and drape it over him.

“I want you, _Meleth nîn._ ” He breathed.

Urgency and desire began to replace the worry, but suddenly Bard hesitated; he couldn’t help it, and shame washed over him, again.

“What is it, Bard?”

“I…” his throat tightened.  “I don't know if I can.  I hurt you, and...”

Thranduil held Bard's face in his hands and wiped his tears with his thumbs.  “We hurt _each other,_ Bard _._ Yes, you lost control and said things you wish you could take back, but I did wrong, too. I should have had more faith in us, and I did not!  I am ashamed, at how little it took for me to believe you did not love me.  Do you not see that?  _We were_ _both_  lost for a moment, but we found each other again.  That is all that matters.”

Bard swallowed, and rested his hand on Thranduil’s cheek, and swallowed.  “Are you sure?”

The Elf smiled at him, and kissed him again, and it was even better than the first one. 

Bard moaned softly.  “I admit, it feels good to be doing this in a real bed, and not a couch, or the floor, or a desk, or against a wall…”

Thranduil chuckled. “It does feel wonderful.  I have missed the feel of all your skin, against mine.”  He kissed Bard with fervor, pushing his tongue past Bard’s teeth, and soon they were exploring each other’s mouths, as their hands explored each other’s bodies.

They were hot, heavy, and hard, when a thought occurred to Bard, and he pulled back, “Um… Aren’t we going to need…”

“You are right.”  Thranduil sat up and opened the drawer of the bedside table, and cursed.  “Nothing.  I’m sure there is something in the bath…” and made to get out of bed.

“Wait, hang on…” Bard looked in the table by his side of the bed, and pulled out the oil of lavender and several small towels. 

Thranduil smiled.  “Galion was optimistic.”

“Maybe Hilda put it there.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened with horror.  “Do not say that Bard!  Do you honestly think I could _puith_ you, if _Hilda put it there?_ I doubt my _gwîb_  could ever get hard again!”

“G _wî_ _b?”_ Bard raised his eyebrows, and snickered. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“It means exactly what you think it means, and you will never enjoy it again, if _Hilda_ has put herself in charge of… _that_.”  The Elf shuddered.

“Ah.  Wasn’t  _Galion_ was considerate, then?”

“Yes, he was.”  Thranduil had a glint in his eye, and crawled toward him.

Before Bard knew it, Thranduil had him pinned underneath him, kissing him, as he rubbed their hips together. 

Bard could feel the rush of desire pushed all other thoughts away.  _“Oh… fuck...”_   he moaned.

“You feel so good, _Meleth nîn._   You feel perfect.”  Thranduil kissed his way down to take one of Bard’s nipples in his mouth, and bit it, causing him to gasp, and thrust his hips up, again. 

Then there were lips on Bard’s cock and he was engulfed in wet heat, with fingers playing with this opening. 

“Please, love… I need you in me.  Please…”

Soon a finger was inserted and was stroking his insides, and the heat began to radiate.  Bard threw his head back and groaned, and he closed his eyes to feel everything… 

“No, Bard.  Please, _Meleth nîn,_ I need you to look at me.   I need to see your eyes, now.”

He opened them, and there was the sea of grey-blue he loved so much.  They were searching Bard’s in earnest, looking for reassurance.  Bard pulled Thranduil down and kissed him, hard. 

When Thranduil began to enter him slowly, they both cried out.  They were together; they were home.  Thranduil began to slowly move in him, and Bard pulled his knees up and wrapped his legs around him, they never took their eyes off each other, riveted to each other’s gaze.  Their eyes were joining them together, every bit as strongly as their bodies.  Stronger, even.  It is easy to find joy in aroused bodies, but they both needed the joy from their bond, from the soul they shared.

Thranduil went down on his elbows, and brought his face closer, as he thrust into him.  “I need you, Bard…”

“I need you, too…” Bard panted. 

“Please… Bard, I need you… please.”  There was a desperate tone in the Elf’s voice. _“Ni melig, Bard?  Ni melithog n'uir?”_

Bard didn’t need to wonder what Thranduil had said.  He saw the grey eyes change, and he could feel the painful wave from their near-parting wash over him. 

"Please love me, Bard..."  The Elf buried his face in Bard's neck and sobbed. "Please love me... I -“

He grabbed Thranduil’s tearful face.  “Look at me,” he panted.  “I love you. I want you to say it."

“I love you…”  The Elf said, with heavy breaths.

 “No, darling, tell me that _I_ love _you._   ‘You love me.’ Say it!”

“You love me.”  Thranduil said and thrust in again. 

“Say it again, love.” Bard tightened his legs around him, and pulled him in tighter.  They both moaned, when Thranduil hit his prostate, sending a wave of pleasure through them.  

“You love me…” 

“It’s true, Thranduil.  It’s all there, in me.  Do you see it?”  Bard whispered, and their pace quickened.  He ran his hands over Thranduil’s chest and he rubbed and pinched Thranduil’s nipples.  “I love you so much..."

“You love me.” 

“Yes, I do." Bard's voice wavered as emotion washed over him. "I need you, love; you're part of me, and I can't...  I love everything about you.  Can you feel it?”

“Bard…” He sobbed, as the tears fell. “Oh, _Meleth...”_

“Your heart is safe with me.  It will always be safe with me.  Tell me you see it.”

 Thranduil couldn't stop the tears.  “You love me.”

Bard wiped Thranduil's eyes, and sunk his fingers in his long, icy hair, and brought their foreheads together.  “Look at me, love.  Tell me again. Say it, Thranduil.  Say it until you know it in the deepest part of you, until you never doubt me, again.  I love you so much.”

“You love me…  Oh, Bard…”  Thranduil was crying softly.  “You love me… please, do not ever stop…   do not ever leave me…”

Bard reached for his cock and began to pump his hand up and down, in time with Thranduil’s cock in him, all the while keeping his eyes on that sea of grey blue.  “Tell me,” he panted. “Tell _us._ Tell us how much we love each other.”

“You love me…” As Thranduil said it, the Bard could feel the fear and doubt begin to loosen from his heart, and Bard felt the peace return. 

“You love me…”

Bard gasped as the first waves of his orgasm began to wash over him, “…  You feel me, don’t you?  You… _aaaah!  Oh, stars…_ I love you, Thranduil…tell me you feel me…”

Thranduil’s eyes were so dark there was hardly any blue left, and as he came inside Bard.  _“Ma!  A, ma…”_   he sobbed from joy and relief.  Then the Elf sank down and buried his face in his neck while Bard wrapped his arms and legs tight around him and cradled him tight, as he waited for his husband to stop trembling.

 

Later, they lay facing each other, not saying much.  Thranduil had taken Bard’s hand and placed over his heart, as if the physical touch would keep Bard from ever trying to escape again. “I feel you in here, Bard,” he whispered softly.

”And you always will, I promise.”

Thranduil squeezed his fingers tight, and pressed his hand into his chest even more, much like Bard himself had done earlier.

It hurt a little, but Bard was fine with that.  If this was what it took to help Thranduil, he’d do it.   He’d do _anything_ to wash away the hurt he caused, in the garden.  Or the agony in his eyes when he shrank from Bard’s touch.  Bard would let his Elf do anything and everything he had to.

He sighed, as he stroked Thranduil’s face. “Oh, love…  I’ve been so selfish, even now.”

“How so, Bard?”

“I was so wrapped up in myself, I didn’t see how badly everything affected you, too.  Dior was your friend; _he_   _almost_ _died_ , yet all you were thinking about was me!” 

Bard closed his eyes from the shame.  “I acted like a complete and utter arse, and even then, _even then,_ you tried to do the right thing by _me,_ when you thought I didn’t want to be with you anymore!  And, after we made up, it was you that held _me,_ wanted to help _me_ , when you were dying inside; you were  _so hurt_...  I’m so sorry, love; if I need to say it a thousand times, I'll do it.”

Thranduil didn’t respond, and his eyes were still riveted to Bard’s, but they spilled over with silent tears.  His Elf didn’t look away or say a word, but his eyes pleaded with Bard to _never_ push him away, again, and Bard could feel Thranduil’s heart beat faster, and the grip on his fingers squeezed even tighter.  Bard understood something in that moment, something that his husband couldn’t put into words, and it sliced his heart.

Thranduil Oropherion was a wise and powerful King. 

He was among the best warriors in the entire history of Middle Earth. 

He was strong enough to mete out death sentences when it was truly warranted, and had often done the deed, himself. 

He could take on dozens of Orcs at a time, and dispense with every one of them, easily. 

He negotiated treaties, healed many wounds, oversaw the working of his entire Palace and was responsible for hundreds of thousands of Elves, dispersed throughout his vast Kingdom. 

He led the largest Elven Army on Middle Earth, and he and his people had fought the constant evil in his own land, for several millennia (and he did it without any special assistance from a Ring of Power, which garnered him a great deal of respect from those who secretly possessed them).

 _No one_ could be more courageous than the Elf lying beside him.

But here, in this bed, on this evening, this ancient, majestic creature was laid completely bare, in a way Bard had never seen before.  He was utterly vulnerable, and now Bard could see and feel just how deeply this Elf feared losing Bard’s love.

Bard knew then what would happen to Thranduil, if the terrible things Bard had said in the Garden had been true. 

Mírelen’s death had been devastating, and it had changed Thranduil forever, but at least he’d known his wife loved him, and hadn’t left by choice.  If Bard had truly rejected him - if he’d purposely left him alone, Thranduil would never survive it.  He _would_ , indeed, fade.  And thanks to Bard’s temper, and his thoughtless words, Thranduil will suffer the aftershocks of this, for a long time to come, much like he suffered nightmares of the Dragon.

“Oh, love…oh no…”  It was Bard’s turn to comfort him.  “Come here.”  He gathered Thranduil to him, and whispered.  “Tell me how I can help you.  How can I help you feel better?  I love you so much…”

So here, in this bed, on this evening, as the sun went down, and the stars began to emerge in the night sky, Thranduil found comfort and safety in Bard’s arms, and his Bowman held him tight, until he stopped being afraid.

The bath in this guest suite was smaller than the Elvenking’s pool, but it was big enough for two, if Bard held him against his chest and wrapped his legs around him, which was fine, because that’s what he wanted to do anyway.  They lay there and enjoyed the hot water, and when it cooled they filled it up again.  It was wonderful to know they had hours ahead of them, and they didn’t have to be anywhere or see anyone.   They had this wonderful, languid time and space, to breathe, and  _be,_ think of nothing else but each other.

And they talked, and talked and talked.  They talked as Bard washed his husband’s body, and then his hair.  They talked while they dried off and combed out each other’s hair, while they ate a late supper, and after Bard put more wood on the fire, then crawled back in bed with Thranduil.  They talked as they lay naked in each other’s arms, just loving the feel of each other. 

They shared stories of big events and trivial things: what they liked or didn’t like, things they found sad, or funny, or joyful, or unbearable.  Things they were happy and excited about, and things that terrified them.  Things they hoped for themselves, and for their children, and grandchildren, and for their Kingdoms. 

They spoke of Valinor, which interested Bard very much. Thranduil shared all the stories he knew about that place, and together they wondered what it will be like for them, when they sailed.  Would they live in a forest?  A city? Do the stars look different there? 

Interspersed between conversation, laughter, tears and warm, intimate touches, they made love.  And each time, Bard held his Elf after, and told him how much he loved him, how happy he was to be with him, and how he would never, **_ever_** let him go.

During all those hours, the _fëa_ they shared was healed.

Because here, in this bed, on this evening, Bard and Thranduil were not fathers, nor were they Kings.  They were not even a Man and an Elf.  They were simply a newly-married couple, who fell in love with each other, all over again.   

 

***************

 

**The Woodland Realm; 20 th of February, 2942, T.A.**

Thranduil and Bard finally slept, in the early hours of the morning.  When the Elvenking woke up, it was light again, and he felt a nest of wild, black hair against his shoulder, and a warm arm and leg draped over him.  He was still tired, but now it was in a good way.

They’d been alone and protected from the outside world, and it had done him and his Bowman a world of good. 

Thranduil sighed with pleasure. He liked to feel every inch of Bard, whether or not they were having sex; he loved the warmth of it.  After so many years of pushing everyone away, including himself, he found he couldn’t get close enough to Bard, and loved to touch him.

Bard mumbled and shifted a little, but he remained asleep, so Thranduil was careful not to move, to let him rest.  He needed it. Thranduil felt yet another shock wave sweep over him, from the terrible scene in the garden, so he closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths and did his best to calm himself.

Their relationship was new, and after centuries of loneliness, it only made sense he’d react badly at the first hint of trouble.  Still, he could never forget this, and that might not be a terrible thing; it was a good lesson to them both.  Among the many other things, they talked about, they agreed that they must work harder to forgive themselves.

There was a knock at the door.  Carefully, Thranduil disengaged himself from Bard, who mumbled, then rolled away to face the opposite wall.  Thranduil tied his robe around his middle, and went to open the door.

On the ground was another tray of food and a steaming teapot.  He laughed to himself and took the tray inside.  Hilda and Galion meant what they said, about not coming out. 

He sat at the table, made himself a plate and poured himself tea when Bard finally stirred. 

“Morning, love.”  Bard was propped up on an elbow, and rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.

“Good morning _Meleth nîn._   Come have breakfast.”

Bard rolled out of bed and grabbed the robe he had found last night, after looking through the drawers.  One for each of them had been placed there, along with complete sets of clothing.

After some morning ablutions and a brief wash, he joined the Elf at the small table in their chambers.  “Smells good.”

“It does.  Our jailers are considerate.”

“If this is prison, I’m all for an extended sentence.  We need time like this, all to ourselves.”

“I believe Galion and Hilda feel the same.”

“We’re lucky they love us, or we’d be in the dungeons.”  Bard grinned, as he buttered a scone.  “How did you sleep?”

“How else would I sleep when I am with you?  Although I admit, I would like another nap, before we rejoin the outside world.”  Thranduil smiled at his Bowman, who looked so beautiful with his long, wild black hair around his face and shoulders. 

Once they finished breakfast, they crawled back into bed again.  “Do you feel better, _Meleth nîn?_ Truly?”

“I really do.”  Bard sighed.  “I think things are as settled as they’re going to be, and I really just want to move on, don’t you?”

“I agree.”

Bard slid his hand between them and began to fondle him, with a smile.  “I don’t think we have to go back to sleep _just_ yet, do you?”

“I agree.”  Thranduil smiled. 

“You’re especially agreeable, this morning.”

“I agree.”

They both laughed, as they kissed, and very soon, Bard was rolling Thranduil onto his stomach and entering him from behind in one slow stroke.

“Have I told you what a gorgeous arse you’ve got, for an Elf?”  Bard moaned.

“For an Elf?”  Thranduil breathed, as he rocked backwards.   “I did not know you disliked –“  Thranduil let out a groan.  _“…_ Elven buttocks.”

Bard laughed, and draped himself over his back and moved in him at steady pace.  “Not t-true…  I love Elven arses.” He gasped.  _“Bloody fuck; you feel so hot and tight…”_

“So… you have seen… many Elven arses?”  Thranduil panted out, between thrusts.

Bard leaned back, grabbing Thranduil’s hips pound into him, and brought his hand down to slap the Elf’s cheeks, which brought a surprised, but delighted yelp from him. 

“So… you think I go around looking at the arse of every Elf I see?” Bard spanked him again. 

“What if I do?” Thranduil groaned.

“Oh, that’s going to cost you…”  And Bard spanked him a few more times.

Bard’s pace increased, and he then he bent over and grabbed Thranduil’s cock and stroked him. 

Both were beyond words by that point and within minutes, Thranduil could feel Bard’s orgasm building and cried out, as he spasmed, and his hips stuttered.  Throughout, Bard kept his hand working Thranduil’s cock, so it wasn’t too much longer before the heat began to build in his groin, and he exploded with a shout.

Once they collapsed on the bed, Thranduil handed Bard a cup of water, which he took, gratefully. 

“Planned ahead?” Bard handed the empty cup to him, with an eyebrow raised.

“Well, I did wake up first.  I did _not_ deserve a spanking, after looking after you so well.”

“Oh, you deserved it, all right.  The only Elven arse I want is yours.”  Bard kissed him.  “Which by the way, is the finest arse I’ve ever seen, Man or Elf.” He grabbed Thranduil and held their hips together. 

“Yours is not so bad either, Bowman.  But you are going to pay for that spanking, make no mistake.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Maybe you should not.  I do have a reputation for ruthlessness.”  Thranduil grinned.

“Do your worst.” Bard kissed his nose and stroked his hair.  “I really do love you, you know.”

Thranduil sighed, and smiled into Bard’s lovely hazel eyes.  “I really do know.”

He put his head on Bard’s shoulder and curled up against him, delighting in the sound of Bard’s heartbeat, and the feel of work-roughened fingers threading through his hair, as they drifted off to sleep again.

 

The sound of the midday bell brought Thranduil awake, and he stirred and stretched, again.  At last, the heavy weight of fatigue had left him, and he felt energized. 

He sat up and shook Bard’s arm.  _“Meleth nîn,_ it is time to get up, though I wish we could stay.”

“Mmmmmmfh…”  Bard didn’t open his eyes. 

Thranduil leaned over and kissed his eyes, his nose and finally his lips.  Sleepy arms grabbed him, and suddenly he found himself on his back, with Bard straddling him, his face nestled in his neck. 

“Don’t wanna be King today.” He mumbled, as he yanked the covers up around them again, settling in. 

“I do not wish to, either, but Hilda gave us until noon.”

“No, she didn’t.  She said she didn’t want to see us until _at least_ after lunch.  She didn’t say we _had_ to come back, now.” Bard whined, sleepily.

“Bard…  I would love nothing more than to stay in this room for another week, but I do not wish for Hilda to get impatient and come and get us.”

“Don’t care.”

“Very well.  This is good, actually.  When she barges in here and pulls the covers off, it is your bottom she will take a strap to.”

“That’s no fair; what about you?”

“I am pinned underneath you; a helpless victim.”

Bard still did not move.

Thrandiul chuckled.  “Very well.  It is your behind sticking up in the air, not mine.  Stay as long as you like.”

After a few minutes, Bard groaned loudly and moved.  “You’re such a bastard, when you’re right.”

They both sat up, and got dressed.  After they finished off the rest of the food, they reluctantly made their way to the door.

Before they opened it, Bard stopped them, and took his hands and kissed them. “You love me, very much.”

Thranduil grinned and kissed his brow. “And you love me, very much.”

His Bowman sighed, “Let’s go back to the world.”

 

“Da! How was your trip!  Hi Ada!”  Bain called out to the Kings, as they entered their chambers in time for lunch with the children.  They were all sitting around the table, just about done.

The boys greeted them a grin, but Sigrid looked down at her plate.

“Sigrid, can I speak with you, for a moment?”  Bard asked her, quietly.

Thranduil saw the girl nod, and they went into the other room. After they left, he sat down next to Rhys.  “Are you all right?”

The boy shrugged.  “I think so.  I hardly knew them, and what I did know, I didn’t like.”

Bain said, “Some of the other kids try to ask him about it, but I make sure they leave him alone.”

“Are they being cruel?”

Bain shook his head.  “They’re just curious, but Rhys shouldn’t have to talk about anything he doesn’t want to.”

Thranduil smiled at the boys.  “I am very proud of both of you.  But, Rhys, if you find yourself upset, and need some support, please come to me, right away.”

The blond boy nodded.  “Who’s going to tell Da?”

“Lord Bard has decided to tell him in person, when he returns to Dale.  So please; just worry about your schooling, and continue to look out for each other.”

 

***************

 

Bard closed the door to the children’s apartment, and sat down on the couch, patting the seat beside him.   “Here, love.”

Sigrid didn’t meet his eyes, but she sat, with one leg tucked under.

“Darling, it was wrong of me to yell at you like that, yesterday.  Other things were upsetting me, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“No, Da.  You were right.  I shouldn’t have left the school like that.  I should’ve listened to Hilda…”

“That’s true, and I’m proud of you for understanding the mistake you made.  It’s important that you follow orders; particularly from those who need to keep you safe.”

“I know, Da.  I just had this idea I wanted to help you…it was a stupid thing to do.”

Bard put his arm around her, and gathered her to him.  “Oh, it wasn’t so stupid.  You’re a brave girl, and someday, when you’re a fully trained healer, you’ll be ready to dive in like that.  But you’re also a Princess of Dale, and you’ll be guarded every day for, the rest of your life.  As annoying as that can get, you have a guard, for a good reason.  Your safety comes first, for them and especially for _Ada_ and me.  I can’t ever lose you like that.” 

He kissed her hair, and went on.  “I need to remind you, that if you disagree, or have a problem, speak with one of us in _private_.  We must _always_ present a united front to the world.  Remember what _Ada_ said about what could happen if we don’t.  There will always be those to try to use our disagreements to their advantage, and if any of you develop a reputation for recklessness, that can leave you open to kidnapping, or much worse.”

“I know, Da.  I just…forgot, and I’m sorry.”  She sighed with frustration. “There’s so much to worry about!”

“Well the good news, our guards do most of the worrying for us; all we have to do is let them.  Don’t worry, love, we’ll all get the hang of it.”  He nudged her.  “Forgive me for yelling?”

“If you forgive me, too.”  She wrapped her arms around him.  “You’re still the most wonderful man I know.”

Bard held her face in his hands.  “You fill my heart, to bursting, when you say things like that.”  He kissed her forehead, then pulled her up.  “Come on; let’s get you ready for afternoon classes.”

When they went back into the Dining Room, Hilda gave him a surreptitious wink, as she stood up.  “Come on, kids, let’s clear the table for Galion. Rhys, it’s your turn to wipe off the table and chairs.”

“Where did you and Ada go, Da?”  Bain asked hopefully.  Thranduil could see Rhys look up with equal curiosity.

Galion cleared his throat.  “Bain, we spoke about this, remember?”

“I was just hoping –“

“Not another word,” Hilda said.  “Unless, of course, you want to clear lunch all by yourself, and do it for the rest of the week?”

“Sorry,” Bain mumbled.

 “How is Tilda?”  Thranduil asked, hiding a smile.

“She’s sleeping.”  Hilda told them.  “I gave her lunch, already.  I’m on duty today; Meriel sent word she couldn’t come.”  Hilda said.

“I thought she might.  Thank you for filling in.”  Thranduil said, and only smiled, when Bard and Hilda looked curious.  “Did our _Tithen Pen’s_ morning go well?”

“Oh, aye. She worked extra hard on her exercises. Then we colored with the paper and she wanted to work on her letters with the slate.  After she ate, she drifted right off, when I read to her.”

“Was she upset when you told her we wouldn’t be back until today?”  Bard felt a pang of guilt.

“She was, so the boys suggested we all take our dinner in there, and have a picnic.  Sigrid had us all singing songs, and that cheered her right up.”

“That is good.” He turned to the children, who had finished their chores, “Have a good afternoon.”  Thranduil patted the children’s heads as they went into their apartment to gather their things for afternoon classes.

“Have fun, Sea Monsters!”  Bard called.  “See you later!” 

He turned to head into the nursery, but Hilda grabbed his arm.  “Wait.” She whispered, and put her hands to her lips. “Not just yet.”

Once they heard the outer door to the children’s rooms close, she pulled them over to the couch and they all sat down.  Galion came over at sat beside her, and they both looked at the Kings with a little anxiety, and not a little curiosity.

“Now, I won’t ask for details, but we need to make sure you two are all right.  You two made us sick with worry.” She looked them up and down.  “Well, you both look like you’ve got some rest, at least.”

Thranduil smiled and took Bard’s hand.  “We are much better, thanks to the two of you.”

“We’re fine now; I promise.”  Bard said.

Galion opened the drawer to the sideboard and reached behind the cups.  “While you were on your ‘important business,’ My Lord, you brought back a present for Tilda.”

“We did?”

“We did?” Bard echoed.

Galion handed him a stuffed knitted doll, the same size as Charlotte, but this one looked like an Elf, right down to the long, straight black hair, and pointed ears.   It was taller and thinner than Charlotte, and had embroidered grey eyes.

“That’s cute!”  Bard laughed.  “Where did you get it?”

“Oh, the knitting circle made them.” Hilda told them.

“We feared a setback with her health, so we thought the promise of a present might keep her calm.”  The Aide looked sheepish. “A ‘bribe,’ if you will.”

“That’s brilliant,” he grinned.  Then Bard looked at the two of them, with sober eyes. “Seriously, though; you both saved us.  You really did; I can never thank you enough.”

Hilda threw her arms around Bard. “We weren’t about to let either one of you throw away the best thing that ever happened to you.” 

Bard said into her hair.  “I’m so sorry, Hil.”

“Shush now…  It happened, we talked, you talked, and now it’s over.”  Hilda said, firmly.  “All that matters, is that we’re all together, lovey.”  

She let him go, and went over to give Thranduil a hug.  “I love you, too.”

Thranduil kissed the top of the woman’s head.  “And I adore you.  Almost as much as Galion does.”

Galion came over and put his arm around Hilda’s shoulders.  “I am glad you are not angry at our little ambush.”

“Don’t worry Galion; I know Hilda made you do it.” Bard winked at her.

“Ha!” Hilda put her hands on her hips.  “Well I’ll have you know, it was his idea!”

The Kings looked at each other with eyebrows raised. 

“I told you she was a bad influence in him.” Thranduil said. 

“You also told me you like it.”  Bard reminded him, and kissed Hilda again, after he gave Galion a hug.  “We couldn’t be a family without you.”

“I thank you, Bard.  It is my honor; truly.” The Elf said, and hugged him back.

“Now, go see the Little Bean.” Hilda cleared her throat.  “I think I hear her stirring.”

They washed, dressed in the pink gowns, and went in, where Tilda was waking up.  “Hi Da!  I missed you.”

“Hey Beanie!  Bard went over and kissed the top of her head. 

“Hi, _Ada.”_   She smiled.  “We had a picnic, and I ate lunch today.”

“Did you eat it all?” Thranduil asked, as he kissed her cheek.

“Uh huh.”

“She’s got a good appetite, today.  And she gripped her spoon a bit better, too.”  Hilda followed them in and sat down on the chair.

“Glad to hear it.  I’m sorry we had to go away, but we’re back now.  Did you miss us, love?”

“You both left.”  She pouted, at both of them.

“I know, but we’re back now, and we missed you.  Hope this helps make it up to you.”  Bard took the doll from behind his back and handed it to her. 

Tilda took it, and smiled a little.  “It’s so pretty.”  

Thranduil put his arm around her.  “Charlotte has another friend.”

“What do you think you should name her, Little Bean?”

She thought about it.  “She looks like Meriel.  She’s got the same hair and eyes.”

“She does, come to think on it.”  Bard observed.

“I want to name her Meriel, too.  She’s so pretty.”

“She will be very flattered.” Thranduil hugged Tilda to him.

The two Kings chatted and cuddled with Tilda for a quite a while, till they couldn’t put things off any longer. 

“We’ve got to get to work, Beanie.  Your Ada and I have some important things to take care of.”

Tilda frowned.  “Do you have to?”

Thranduil stood up and stroked her hair.  “I am afraid so.  But _you_ have important things to do, my little one.  You must introduce Charlotte to her new friend, and make sure she gets along with Daisy.   Auntie Hil is with you, today, so you should have lots of fun.”

Hilda took Thranduil’s place.  “I was thinking; we could get some scraps of fabric and make some clothes for your new dolly; what do you think of that?”

 

Bard and Thranduil made their way into the wide hallway, and were met by two guards, carrying something.  Bard saw what it was, and shooed them into the study.  It was the second Lieutenant from Dior’s unit, who presented them with the evidence.

“My Lord, we have recovered the woman’s body, and wanted to show you what we found.”  He handed the Iola’s corset to Bard, who looked it over carefully, as Thranduil watched.

“Well, that explains it.  See?  She made a pocket to hold the knife, right next to the boning in front.  No wonder Dior didn’t know it was there.” 

Iola had, indeed, somehow fashioned a long, narrow case for her handmade dagger out of what used to be a leather purse, and positioned it next to the rigid strip of boning that supported her laces. 

Thranduil shook his head. “I hate to admit this, but Iola was very clever.  The only way for the guards to know it was there would be to grope or strip them.”

“And if so, the guards would be accused of molestation.” Bard added, then swore under his breath, then asked the Lieutenant,   “Did you know the women wore corsets?”

The Guard shook his head.  “Elves do not use such garments, and we were not permitted to watch the women dress.”

Bard sighed.  “ Don’t blame yourself; I am the one at fault,” he told the Guard. “I didn’t know of the woman’s madness, but it was me who ordered you to treat them thus.  You were only doing as instructed, and I’d like to extend my apology to you and your unit.”

The Lieutenant saluted.  “Thank you, Lord Bard.”

   

After the guards left, Bard turned to Thranduil with a stricken face.  “I was a fool to question your Guards’ competence, Thranduil.  Or yours.  I’m sorry for that.”

Thranduil took his hand.  “I know, Meleth nîn.  But please; we are better, now.  In light of this, we will discuss with Dior different protocols to prevent such a tragedy again; that is all we can do.”

Bard sighed, but he smiled a little.

Thranduil set the corset on his desk.  “Come; we have an unpleasant task before us.”

Before they left their chambers, Galion told them he’d ordered no one say anything to Ina, until the Kings could deliver the news themselves, which was only proper.  As they made their way through the Palace, they were pleased to see all evidence of bloodshed had been removed. 

“Things look good as new.” Bard said.  “That really helps, doesn’t it?”

“It does.  Especially for the children.” Thranduil replied, as they reached Ina’s rooms, and the waited for the guard to announce them.

“Hello, Ina.  How do you fare?”  Thranduil asked after they went in.  An Elf named Írimë, had been assigned as her counselor and companion, and was introduced to Bard.

 “I’m…I like my new rooms, My Lord.  They’re much nicer.  It’s hard to get used to being without Iola, but I’m grateful to not be alone.”  Ina indicated Írimë.  “She’s very kind.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Bard told her.  “I wish we were here for a pleasant reason, but I’m afraid something’s come up, and we need to speak to you.”

Ina looked at him curiously.  “Is it Iola?  Is she all right?”

Bard spoke gently.  “I’m afraid she’s not, Ina.  Your sister died, yesterday.”

The woman put her hand on her chest.  “What happened?” she whispered.

“We spoke to her yesterday morning, and you were right.  She had no sense of what was real, or not.  As the guards were taking her away, Iola broke loose, and jumped off the side of a walkway.  I’m sorry for your loss.”

Ina looked at them both with wide eyes.  “She…killed herself?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.  I assure you; the guards were not rough with her.  We have eyewitness accounts saying they tried to stop her…”

“No, I’m sure you’re telling the truth, My Lord.  It’s just that…”  Ina shook her head and sighed.  “Don’t get me wrong, My Lord; I’d never wish harm on her, and I’d never wish for her to take her own life, but… “ The woman sighed.  “I hope she’ll find some peace, now.”

“Despite her dangerous behavior, Ina, I, too, am sorry for your loss.”  Thranduil told her.  “I want you to know, I would have made sure she had the best care possible.  No one deserves to live with a mind in such torment.”

“How do you feel?”  Bard asked.

“I…don’t know how I feel, really.  All I know is, it’s finally over.”

“Aye, some things are over, but some things are just beginning.” Bard told her.  “All you need to think on is getting through today.  I’m glad Írimë, is here to help you.”

Ina looked shyly at the brown-haired, blue-eyed Elf.  “She came yesterday, as soon as I was brought here.  I don’t know her all that well, yet, but she helps me.”

Bard turned to the attractive Elleth.  “How has she been?”

“My Lord, her examination revealed some recent bruising, but otherwise, she is in good physical health.  Ina had a difficult night, and has suffered bouts of panic.  Considering this recent news, I will keep her sedated, for the next several days, and place a _losta-luith_ at night, to make sure she gets rest.”

Thranduil nodded.  “Ina, I would like to meet with you and Írimë in my office tomorrow, so we can discuss plans for a simple service, the next day.  Will that be agreeable?”

“Aye, My Lord.  I thank you for that.”  Ina became teary.  “I know she was –“

“Think nothing of it.  I hope it helps.”

Bard nodded and he and Thranduil made ready to leave, but not before expressing their condolences once more.

 

“That went easier than I thought it would.”  Bard remarked.

“She’s overwhelmed right now, and I believe she feels relieved, but once the shock wears off, she will need constant care for a long time.”

“Aye.  I think you’re right.”  Bard said.  “Now, let’s see how your friends are doing.”

Once they arrived at the Healing Hall, Elénaril came up to speak with them.  “My Lord, Dior has lost some blood, but not as much as we originally feared.  He must remain immobile, so his body can recover from the shock, so I have induced a Healing Sleep.  He will be under for approximately three days.  Elion is doing well, and is awake, now.”

“Thank you.  May we check in on them?”

“Of course.”  The Healer turned to Bard.  “I believe you are the reason Dior is alive, My Lord.  His heart had, indeed, stopped, but your blows to his chest shocked it back into rhythm.  It is the only explanation.”

 “As long as it worked.” Bard shook his head. “I apologize for losing my temper like that, Elénaril.”

The Healer graciously bowed her head.  “It is understandable, My Lord, and believe me, I have heard _much_ worse.”

“Still, it was too bad of me to - ”

“Think no more of it.” Elénaril said, in her no-nonsense manner.  “Elion is on the fourth door to the right.” 

They made their way to his room, and found the Guard sitting in his bed, reading a book.

“How do you fare, Elion?”  Thranduil asked.  “You look tired.”

“I am doing well, My Lord, but yes, I am fatigued.  Elénaril believes I can go back to my quarters tomorrow, and be back on duty after a week.”

“That’s good news.”  Bard told him.  I’m glad you’re going to be all right.”

The Elf smiled at him.  “Thank you, Lord Bard for your help.”

“Elion, one of _my_ people injured you, and for that, _I_ apologize.  They brought us Iola’s garments, and we found the pocket where she’d hidden her knife.  You’d never have felt it, under the stiff corset; she’d put it right next to the laces between her breasts.  You’d have never felt it, when you pat the prisoners down for weapons, unless you put your hands in there.”

The Guard’s eyes widened.  “We would never have done such a thing, My Lord! That would be assault, but still, we neglected to…”

Bard was quick to interrupt.  “As I have said to Lord Thranduil, the negligence was _mine,_ and it is a mistake I will not make again.  When you and Dior are recovered, Thranduil will meet with you to go over some new protocols, which will also be carried out in Dale.”

“So… her body has been recovered.”

“Aye.”  Bard looked to Thranduil. “We’re going to have a bare-boned service in two days, for Ina’s sake.”

Elion asked.  “If it is all right, My Lord.  I would like to attend.  I have felt for a long time that Mistress Ina was victimized by her sister, and for her sake, I would like to offer support.”

Thranduil agreed, but with a caution.  “That is very kind of you, but you may only do so if Elénaril releases you, but I do not want Ina to know you’ve been injured.  She only knows Iola jumped, but I do not wish her to be burdened with the details at this time.”

“Of course, My Lord.  Thank you.”

 

After leaving Elion to his book, Thranduil and Bard peeked in on a very pale Dior, who lay in his healing sleep.  Thranduil went over to him, and stroked his brow, thoughtfully.  _“Fer-nesto im, Mellon nîn. Nai i Belain nauvar as elyë.”_

“Have you known him as long as Feren?”  Bard asked his husband.

“No.  Dior is only half our age; he was born 1000 years after the Third Age began, and he and Feren became friends, after he was promoted.  I like him very much, Bard.  He is steadfast and brave, yet he has a joyful heart, which did me good when I was struggling with my loss.”  Thranduil swallowed.   “Dior was also with me, when my wife…  He was gentle with Mírelen’s body, after she was killed.  He tore the sleeve off his own tunic to cover her neck, and folded his own cloak under her head…”

“That was kind of him.”  Bard said, quietly. 

“It was.  Then he came over to me, and asked to take my cloak from my shoulders.  I did not understand, until I saw him tuck it around her...”  Thranduil shuddered.  “It was an unspeakable day, but he helped me bear it.”

“Sounds like a good Elf, love.”  Bard squeezed his arm.  “Does he have a family?”

“Not here.  His sister lived in the village that was destroyed by Orcs, where we found Tauriel.  After that, his mother’s grief was too deep, so Dior and his father took her to the Grey Havens, and sent them to Valinor.”

“I’m sorry to hear he’s alone.  He seems like a good chap.”

Thranduil smiled.  “He’s not alone.  He has a special someone.”

“Oh? Do I know him or her?”

“You do.  She helps to look after our Tilda.”

“Meriel?  Really?”  Bard grinned.  “I’d no idea.”

“They had been friends for centuries, but have been seeing each other for several years.  I think it has gone beyond casual, although I have a suspicion this incident will help them to understand the depth of their feelings.  I hope so.  It has been too long since we had a wedding in the Palace.”

The _elleth_ in question entered the room a few minutes later, and she curtsied gracefully to the two Kings.  “Please excuse my absence this morning, My Lord.”

Thranduil waved away her concern with a smile.  “I assumed this is where you would be.  Dior is fortunate to have such a dedicated caretaker.”

Meriel had always been composed and professional, since Bard had met her.  But now, the serenity and confidence wavered.

“Thank you both for helping to save his life.  Elénaril told me how you brought him back, Lord Bard, and I am grateful.”

Bard smiled at her.  “I’m happy I could help, although I must admit, it was an accident.”

“The dark-haired Elf nodded.  “I will be back with Lady Tilda tomorrow.  He will sleep for a few more days, but I wanted to make sure he would be all right.  He made it through the night, and his heart and lungs and doing well, considering.”

“I wish him a speedy recovery, and wish you both well.”  Bard put his hand on her shoulder.  “I expect you to take the day off, when he awakes, is that clear?”

Meriel looked at him gratefully.  “Thank you, My Lord.”

 

After they left the Healing Halls, Bard asked his husband, “Are Elven weddings that rare?  I’ve also heard not many children are born here, these days.  Why?”

“Since the forest became so sick, Elves have not pursued such things nearly as often as they used to.  Now that the White Council banished the Enemy to Mordor, I am hoping that changes.  I miss officiating at weddings, and I would love to hear the laughter of Elven children in the Palace, again.  Your children and those of Dale have done wonders for the morale of my own people.”

“Elves can choose when to have children, but they didn’t want to while your Realm suffered?”

“That is part of it.  Elves do not have children during wartime, this is true.  But I think Sauron’s presence prevented my people from conceiving, even when they wanted them.  Feren and Glélindë tried for many years, but with no success.”

“Do they know that was the reason?”

“I am only speculating, but the more I consider it, I think it is true.”

“But you and Mírelen concieved Legolas, with little to no trouble.”

“That is true, _Meleth nîn,_ but I am a Sindar, and Feren and his wife are Sylvan.  Their kind relate to the forest in a way I cannot.  It is their gift.”

“If the forest was so sick, perhaps it was a curse, too.”

“In that respect I suppose you’re right.  Yet, despite their connection they have still managed to grow and thrive in the forest, and care for it.”  I am more powerful in many respects, but his people have been here since the Elves first awakened under the stars.  It seems logical that what affects the forest, would also affect them.”

“Hmm.”  Bard said.  “That makes sense.  You Elves are fascinating creatures.”

Thranduil grinned.  “Thank you.  I am eager to hear from Elrond when the Mountains are passable.  I have a feeling that Eärendil’s blessing will have something to do with this, as with other things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have the sense that the Valar’s blessing through Eärendil will bring about some good things for the Woodland Realm.  Things have…shifted and I believe changes are coming.”

“Time will tell, love.”

Thranduil smiled at him.  “As long as that time is spent with you, I can handle any change that comes along.”

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Ni melig, Bard?  Ni melithog n'uir?_ \- Do you love me, Bard?  Will you love me for eternity?

 _Fer-nesto im, Mellon nîn. Nai i Belain nauvar as elyë._ – Feel better soon, my friend.  May the Valar be with you.

 

 

 

NOTES:

Bard did what was called a “Precordial thump” on Dior’s chest.  It is not a recommended procedure, and is no longer a part of CPR training.  It looks great in the movies, and it also sounds great in a story, which is why, on Middle Earth, it works miracles.

Just don’t ever try this at home, kids….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil makes some things to help Tilda, as he enjoys a typical family evening. But he's got plans for Bard later - to pay him back for their romp in the guest suite.
> 
> Rhian has a visitor, and she's very excited to introduce her son to him.
> 
> King Dain and Uncle Percy send a gift to for Tilda, and while it's deeply appreciated, Bard finds it unsettling.

 

**The Woodland Realm, 21 st of February; 2942, T.A.**

 

The next day Bard and Thranduil visited the Healing Halls again, and caught up on some work in the study.  They spoke with Ina and her caretaker, to arrange a bare-bones funeral service.  Both Kings would attend, as well as Galion, Írimë, and Hilda (who volunteered, to her credit). 

After Thranduil had shared what he could about Ioan, and his deplorable treatment of his daughters, Hilda’s attitude changed toward Ina.  She’d never mourn Iola, but she felt sympathy for Ina’s situation, and decided it was her job to support the people of Dale, no matter who they were.  It didn’t mean she’d let go of her anger at their kids being mistreated, but she had a greater perspective.

When Ina was brought to his study, along with Írimë, Hilda knocked on the door.  “Might I join you?”  

Ina was nervous, and looked to Thranduil, but he gave her a reassuring nod.  “It will be all right.”  To Hilda, he said, “Yes, of course, do come in.  We are having a short meeting about the funeral ceremony tomorrow.”

The Seneschal of Dale came and sat across from them on the overstuffed furniture.  “Ina, I’m sorry for your loss.  Your sister was truly a mixed-up soul, but I’m sure you’re mourning her absence.”

“Thank you,” Ina said, looking at her lap.

“I’m also sorry for what you went through with your father.”  Hilda told her. 

At this, Ina looked up at Thranduil in panic.  “You told her?  But –“  She grabbed her chest.  “You promised…”

“Be at peace Ina. Lady Hilda knows that some facts are under Seal, and she will never ask about it, nor will she even speculate.  She also knows not to reveal the things we did speak of.  If there is anyone in this Palace you can trust, it is her.”

Ina look frightened, but she nodded.  Írimë put her arm around her shoulders.  “It is all right, Ina.  It will be all right.  It is Lady Hilda’s job to make sure you receive proper care; and she understands a bit more about things, now.”

The woman’s eyes became teary.  “My Lady, I’m sorry for what my sister did; I should have stopped her...”

Hilda shook her head.  “You’ve been overwhelmed your whole life, and you did the best you could.  I can’t say I understand what you’ve gone through, but it’s not hard to imagine being so powerless.  If you and Írimë need anything from me, don’t hesitate to ask.”

After a little while, things were settled, and the meeting was over. 

“It was a productive day, was it not?”  Thranduil said, as he and Bard finally left the study to go have dinner.

“Aye, and I’m glad of it.  I don’t want to spend so much time working in the next couple of days.  I need to think of going back soon, and I want to be with the children.”

“When?”  The idea of his husband leaving turned his stomach, but Bard was right.

“I don’t want to leave until after Tilda’s out of isolation.  I think being out with you again will distract her enough to keep her from being too upset.”  Bard looked at his husband.  “I wish I could stay…”

“I know, _Meleth nîn.”_   Thranduil reassured him.  “I understand, more than anyone else, how hard it is.”  He took Bard’s hand, and smiled.  “We will be all right.”

Thranduil brought their foreheads together, and whispered.  “And you love me, very much.”

Bard looked down at their intertwined fingers, and sighed.  Then he smiled at him.  “Always.”

 

After everyone had dinner, the family gathered on the couches by the fire, while Sigrid went in to read to Tilda.  Bard played Stratagem with the boys, while Hilda worked on Percy’s mending.  Galion was in his own quarters, having a quiet evening to himself, at Thranduil’s insistence.

Thranduil was sitting at the dining room table with his pen, ink and paint, and the table was covered with an old sheet, working on small picture cards for Tilda, as Daeron had instructed.  He had sketched them all in ink, he’d been using water-based paint to finish them and allow them to dry.  They weren’t the detailed drawings of his usual style; these were quick, simple, and cheerful. 

He even made some drawings on larger pieces of paper for Tilda to color; several were of his Elk, and some with Esta and he even drew a few of Thangon and her Da. 

He also made some simple outlines of Dale, so she could think about her new home, when it was ready.  When he was working on those, Bain sat down next to him to watch, as the sight of their new home was taking shape. 

“It will look like that?  Really?”  Bain asked.

“Your father has made a few changes, but, yes, Dale will look much like this, when all is finished.”

“Would there be a way to make more of those?  I think all the schoolchildren would enjoy working on things like that.”  Hilda called over to them.

“That is an excellent idea.  I will have the scribes make copies.”

“How can they do that?”

“Well, for written things, they have a press, but for things like this, they will draw this onto a block of wood, then carve out the negative space, to stamp it.”

“That sounds like fun!  Uncle Percy taught me how to whittle; I suppose it’s a lot like that.”

“It _is_ very much like that, Bain.  If you wish, I can have something set up where you can work on a block print, yourself.  I will draw the picture, and you can remove the wood around it; does that sound like something that would interest you?”

“That would be great!” Bain sat down across from him, and studied the pictures.  “Tilda will like these.”

“I think so. Coloring these will help strengthen her fingers and help with control.  I have already made arrangements to have some sets of thicker colored wax sticks made; they will make it easier for Tilda to hold, but will also be used for the younger children of Dale in their classes.”

As Thranduil finished up his drawing of a fox, he looked over at his husband.  Bard was bent over the low table in front of the couch, in concentration.  Rhys was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and had just taken Bard’s knight.  The boy had a natural talent for this game, which meant that he was good at recognizing patterns and forming strategy.  Bain was the same way.

Thranduil felt confident that Bain would do very well, as King, and saw Rhys as a very capable future Commander.  Their friendship reminded him Feren.  They had been best friends since children, and had trusted each other with their lives, on countless occasions.  If Rhys turned out to be as loyal as Feren was, then Bain would be a fortunate man.

After Thranduil finished painting the cards, he sat on the couch next to Bard, and put his arm around him. 

“Who won the game?”

“Rhys did.”

The boy smiled.  “It was a close match, My Lord.”

“Oh, you don’t have to be polite, son.  Your Da tells me you’ve been playing with him for a long time; I only learned a few months ago.”

Hilda put down her sewing.  “Come on, you lot; let’s get you ready for bed.”

“But can’t we stay up a little while longer?”  Bain asked.  “Da’s here, and he’ll be going back soon, and –“

“No.” was the collective answer from all three adults.

“…and for your cheekiness, you go first Bain.”

“Oh, all right.”  The boy got up, and went to say goodnight to Tilda, before he went into the Children’s apartment.  Rhys waved at them, and went with him.

Hilda gathered her things, and stood up.  “I’ll say goodnight to Tilda, and go to bed myself.”  Before she left the room, she kissed both Kings on the cheek. “Good night, boys.”

 

***************

 

Later, after seeing the children to bed, and Tilda was fast asleep in the nursery, Thranduil took his husband by the hand, and brought him into their dressing room.

“What’s all this?”  Bard asked, although he knew was a ridiculous question; the lamp was lit, the oil was sitting on the vanity, and there were towels sitting beside it.

“I told you I would repay you.”  Thranduil smirked. “You dared to spank the King of the Woodland Realm.”

Bard’s eyes darkened.  “Is that so?”

“I always keep my word, Bowman.”

“Stars, I hope so…”

“When you were gone, I often recalled our first time in here, and how much I enjoyed watching you…please me.”  Thrandiul began to kiss his Bowman, and ran his hand under Bard’s tunic, before he pulled it over his head altogether. 

Bard’s nipples hardened, when Thranduil palmed his chest, and ran his thumbs back and forth over them.  He kissed him, as his husband gasped and moaned, while he pinched and rolled them, causing Bard to grab his hips and pull him closer.

The Elf grinned, and eased him down into the chair that was facing the mirror.  Then he reached for a pair of silk kerchiefs he had laying nearby, and tied Bard’s hands to the arms of the chair. “Now, you must pay the price for daring to raise a hand to your King.”  He pulled the rest of Bard’s clothes off, then stood before him. 

Bard stared at him, open-mouthed, as Thranduil slowly and seductively removed his boots, his leggings, and finally his robe and tunic, to stand naked before him, wearing only the beautiful Emerald necklace Bard had given to him.  Already aroused, Thranduil’s cock was half-hard, and he could see Bard’s twitch with anticipation.

Bard whispered, “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

Thranduil’s response was to kneel in front of his Bowman, and run his hands lightly over his thighs, as he parted them.  “Allow me.”

He reached for the oil, and slicked his fingers, but did not use them yet.  Instead, he licked a slow, wet stripe along the underside of Bard’s throbbing cock.

“Oh, _fuck,_ Thran…”  he moaned, as the Elf took the tip into his mouth to wet it, and then blew on it.  Bard squirmed and moved his hips around, as he moaned, softly.

Thranduil’s response was to toy with his entrance, as he continued with his slow licks and teasing.  Bard closed his eyes, and tilted his head back, as he squirmed with pleasure.

“Oh, no, _Meleth nîn._   You must keep your eyes open and watch.”  Then he pushed his index finger in and enjoyed the look on Bard’s face as he hissed and groaned.  He began to push it in and out slowly, and soon, Bard’s hips were matching his motions.  A second oiled finger followed, then he curled his fingers and began to massage that miraculous bundle of nerves.

 _“Aaah…  Nnngh…_   Oh, fuck that feels so good.”  Bard’s head went back, and his hips writhed in circular motions.  He was panting, now, as Thranduil continued his ministrations with his long, smooth fingers.  As soon as he saw Bard’s eyes close again, he pulled his fingers out.

“I said, your eyes must be open.” He scolded, softly, as he ran his fingers over the inside of his thighs, hips and near his groin, but never touched it.  “You must always do as your King commands, yes?”

“All right, all right,” the Bowman panted.  “Don’t stop; please.”

“Only if you behave…” 

“Please…”

“Please, what?”  He wheedled, with raised eyebrows.

“Please, My King…”

Thranduil grinned again, and returned to his ministrations again, making sure he stroked him inside with just right pressure, not too much; just the way his husband liked it.  Bard writhed and grabbed at the arms of the chair until his knuckles were white.  “Bloody fuck…  That’s it…just like that... _ah…_ ”  His hips were thrusting now, and one of his hands strained against the ties to reach for his cock.

Thranduil slapped it away, and stopped. “No, _Meleth nîn._   No touching.”

Bard squirmed.  “Please, Thranduil!”

“You did not address me properly.”

“Please, My King.  Please don’t stop.”  Bard breathed the words out.

“Are you going to touch what is mine, again?”

“N-no…  Please, don’t stop…My King.”  So Thranduil moved his fingers again, and he continued to tap and rub Bard’s prostate.  He lowered his head, and licked up Bard’s cock again, smiling, as it twitched. 

“Shit!  Ulmo’s Balls, _touch me!”_   Bard managed to spit out.  “Fuck me, damn you!” 

“Mmm…  That is a good idea, but it is not _Ulmo’s_ balls I am interested in.  Your balls need attention, do they not?”  Thranduil lowered his head and began to nuzzle his balls and suck on one, then the other.  Bard was going crazy, and through loud moans, told him as much.

Once again, fingers reached for the hard, throbbing cock, so Thranduil smacked it away.  Then he stilled his fingers and sat back, looking at his husband.

“I said, ‘Do. Not. Touch.’  If this is too much, _Meleth nîn,_ I will stop…”

“You…fucking bastard!  Oh, shit, you bastard…”  Bard said between clenched teeth. 

“You dare to call your King a bastard?” 

 “Please….” Bard whimpered, as his hips writhed for his touch.  “You have to…”

“I do not have to do _anything,_ Bowman.  I am King, and you are at _my_ mercy.  But if you do not wish to obey your King’s command, I will…”

“No!  NO!  You have to…  _Oh, fuck…_ Please, My King, I’ll behave.  I’ll do anything you want.  Just…”

 “’Just’ what?”  Thranduil teased.  “Are you going to be naughty, or can I continue?”

“Whatever you want; I just want you to… _Aaaaah!”_   Bard couldn’t finish his sentence as Thranduil licked and sucked on his balls again, and resumed his massage of Bard’s prostate.   “You son of a bitch!   _Oh… bloody fuck…_ You’re trying to kill me!”

“Oh, _Meleth nîn,_ if I had wanted to kill you, you would have been dead and disposed of, long before this.  I very much enjoy you, as my plaything.”

Then he began to tease his husband again, only this time with three fingers.  Bard hissed and grimaced a little at this, so Thranduil licked his cock, and took the head of it into his mouth, to distract him. 

Once Bard had adjusted, Thranduil went back to licking him, and used his fingers to fuck him in earnest, making sure to keep working that sweet spot.  Bard was thrusting now, and his cock was red and throbbing, begging for release, as it bounced against his abdomen.   Thranduil kept up his movements, as Bard’s pleasure slowly increased, and he saw his husband’s eyes watching himself in the mirror. 

“Do you like what you see, Bowman?  Do you like to see me play with you?  Do you like seeing your cock so hard and throbbing, begging for me to touch you?”

“This is fucking… torture!” Bard gasped. He white-knuckled the arms of the chair, using them as leverage to lift his hips up and fuck himself on Thranduil’s fingers. _“Ahhh…_ bloody fuck…  You’re torturing me!”

“How do you address me?”  Thranduil asked, as he stopped, yet again.

“My K-King… You love to torture me, My King.”  Bard could barely get the words out.

“Torture, you say?  Oh, no; that is not good…  Do you need me to stop, Bard?”

“Mmnnnaaa….  Don’t you dare stop!”  The Bowman was sweating, desperate.  “Oh, gods, touch it…touch it… please!”

“Are you sure, _Meleth nîn?”_

“You bastard!  Touch it, I tell you!  The Bowman screamed, between gasps.  “NOW!”

Thranduil smirked at him, again. “Since you have tried so hard to behave, if my Bowman demands it of me, I will touch it.  Now.”

Bard whimpered, anticipating his relief, “Oh, fuck, please…  You have to…”

Still finger-fucking Bard, Thranduil straighten up on his knees, and in full view of his frantic husband, slowly oiled his own cock, with great relish.

 “Oooh…” he breathed, and looked at Bard through his lashes.  “Oh, yes, that is so good…”  He moaned purposefully, “Touching it is sooooo good...” 

Bard was keening now, and his hips were writhing on Thranduil’s fingers at a frantic pace.  The Bowman’s eyes were no longer looking in the mirror; they were riveted on Thranduil’s cock, watching him pleasure himself.

“You dirty, filthy, cocksucking, fucker!   Oh, shit…Nnnnghaa… I’m gonna come…  I’m gonna come… _AAAAAHHH!”_ he screamed and threw his head back, as his cock erupted with thick, white stripes all over his chest and stomach.  Thranduil kept up the movements with his fingers to prolong Bard’s orgasm, and delighted in the sight of his Bowman, like this.  His cries still continued at the top of his lungs, and it wasn’t going to quiet down any time soon, as his cock kept twitching and throbbing in the air. 

The Elvenking’s eyes widened, as he watched his husband completely fall apart.  He was still stroking himself, but now he wasn’t teasing.  He was panting, completely caught up in the pleasure of Bard’s release, reveling the feel of his bond with Bard, as he brought him to such a level of arousal.  He watched as Bard jerked and cried out with every aftershock, and his grip upon himself tightened and he sped up his strokes…

Bard let out a loud growl through gritted teeth, as his fingers grabbed on the chair so hard he snapped one of arms right off, and freed one of his hands.

Grunting and panting like a caged animal, he frantically freed his other hand.   Then Bard grabbed Thranduil’s wrist, pulled the fingers out of him and stood up, roughly kicking the broken chair against the opposite wall, as the Elvenking watched, wide-eyed and fascinated.  Bard’s hair was in complete disarray, and he was like a savage, standing before him.  It was beyond exciting, and Thranduil’s cock twitched to see his husband so primal.

Bard grabbed Thranduil’s shoulders roughly and he responded with a delighted gasp.  Just to make it more fun, he wrestled with Bard until he was pinned to the floor with a yelp, and they both were panting as Bard straddled him.

Another deep, savage moan was heard, as Bard impaled himself on Thranduil’s hard cock, and he thrust down on his Elf. 

“Oh, _Meleth nîn…_ _A, Ma, ma!_ ”  Thranduil cried.  He grabbed Bard’s hips, bent his knees, with his feet on the floor, and met every thrust as they pounded each other.

Thranduil took Bard in hand and worked him to hardness again, as he continued to fuck into him. His moans and gasps were soon joined by Bard’s, as Thranduil worked him in time with his thrusts.  Bard was leaning over him, with his black hair in his face, looking and sounding like the Black Warg the Elf always teased him about.  The Bowman was grabbing at him any place he could find to help him slam himself down even harder; scratching, biting, and clawing, and growling like the wild animal he resembled.  Thranduil grabbed Bard’s hips and angled them to hit his prostate, and from the loud groans coming from his husband, he had succeeded.  

It was brutal and punishing, the way Bard was fucking him, the way they were fucking each other.

_And Oh, how he was loving it._

“Oh, fuck… I’m gonna come again.” Bard dug his fingers hard into Thranduil’s shoulders.  “Fuck, the things you do to me…  I’m gonna come…” he whimpered.

“Do it!  Come with me, Bard!”  Thranduil gripped Bard at the hips and angled him so he would brush against his prostate.  _“A, ma Bard,”_ he cried, urgently.  _“Ritho! No lagor! Puitho nin!”_

After a dozen more thrusts, and both of them crying out with increasing volume, his orgasm crashed onto him and they both saw the stars and the sun.

 

Once their breathing finally returned to normal, they lay side-by-side on the floor, unable able to move. Thranduil’s eyes were closed, with his hands tucked behind his head.  He had no idea how or when he could get up again. 

“I am glad I put up a silencing spell, _Meleth nîn.”_ He managed to say, in a weak voice.  “We would have had the children, the dog, and all the guards in here, thinking I was eviscerating you.”

“Mmmmph,” was the only thing that came from Bard.  One arm was covering his eyes, his other hand was on his stomach, and he didn’t move a muscle.

“We _were_ quite rough, Bard; _did_ I disembowel you?”

Bard huffed a laugh at the irony.  “Did you hear me complain?” 

“No.”

Thranduil heard him sigh, then murmur with a rough voice. “I’m not hurt, but I’ll be doing the buggering next time, thank you very much.”

“I could be satisfied with that.  If ‘buggering’ means what I think it means.” 

“It means what you think it means.”

“You were a beast, _Meleth nîn.”_  Thranduil grinned, with his eyes still closed.  “I am covered with marks, and I am sure some are bloody.”

“Good.” He heard his Bowman snort.

They lay there for another moment or two.

“You broke my chair.” 

“Mmm Hmm.”

“I was fond of that chair.”

“Mmm Hmm.”

After another few minutes, Thranduil became curious.  “Bard?”

 “Mmmm.” Bard grunted.

“Did you like it?”

“Like what?”

“You know very well what.”  The Elf smirked. "Did you like it?"

“I didn’t think I was going to live through it.  Only a bastard would do what you did, and you were a right bastard, you bastard.”

Thranduil chuckled, tiredly.  “My father would take exception to your choice of words, _Meleth nîn.”_

“He’ll live, and so will you.”

“I am sorry I tortured you, Bard.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Are _you_ sorry I tortured you?”

“Are _you_ sorry I spanked you?”

They both laughed, still languishing in their post-orgasm haze.

At length, Thranduil murmured.  “We will stay here, tonight; I do not think I can get up.”

“They’ll break down the door in the morning, and see the carnage.  The children would get an eyeful.”

“Hilda would castrate us both, if the children saw us naked, like this.”

“We’re not _totally_ naked.  You’ve got your necklace on.”

“That is true.  It _is_ a beautiful necklace, Bard.”

“That it is.  Pretty enough to save us from Hilda?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Shit…”

 They both groaned and helped each other sit up. 

“We need a bath.  We are sweaty, _Meleth nîn.”_

“Sweaty and sticky.  Grab the Athelas oil.  I’m going to need it.”

 

A while later, after the Kings had a long hot soak, they were finally in bed.

“How do you feel?”  Thranduil asked him.

“Fucked within an inch of my life.”

“I regret nothing, _Meleth nîn.”_

“Why am I not surprised?”

As they lay there in silence, they heard shuffling and a soft thumping sound from the nursery, so they got up to check on her.  Tilda had rolled over and kicked her covers away, and her stuffed toys had fallen on the floor.  Bard kissed her hair as he tucked her in again, while Thranduil retrieved her toys and settled them back where they belong.

“I’m glad she’s in such a big bed; she can travel all over it, and we don’t have to worry about her falling out.” Bard sighed, as they settled back in.  “I love how Esta looks after her.  The dog's a miracle.”

“She’s an Elven dog.”

“Does she have magic?”  Bard asked him.

“Perhaps in a way..  Elves have a way of understanding animals, and helping them understand us.  Esta has no obvious powers, but she… _knows_ things.  As for her service to our children, that is something she chooses to do.  She sees them as her pups.”

“What kind of dog is she? And how did you choose her?”

“Esta is a _Tirhu_ _̂taw_ , and her breed is known for their keen intelligence.  She used to help her owners manage their sheep, and when Feren suggested I send Thangon to you, he also told me about her.”

“Bain told me you’ve placed your orphaned pets with my people here.”

“Many of them.  It is a good arrangement.  Eventually, there will also be puppies and kittens.  You’ll need them, when your people settle in to their homes.”

“As nice as that sounds, I’m concerned about overpopulation.”

“Oh, that is easily remedied.  We have a spell to place on them, to prevent unwanted pregnancies.”

“Good.  It took a lot of work to get the streets of Dale clean; I’m not anxious to fill them up again with dog shit.”

The Elvenking snickered in his husband’s arms.  Then he sighed.  “It is such bliss to lie here with you.”

Bard sighed again, and snuggled into his husband. “It seems selfish, to want you so much, but I _need_ to be with you, Thranduil.  I can face almost anything, when I feel so full of you.”

“We _do_ need it, Bard; making love with you helps me be strong.  If we were having sex, _instead_ of taking care of our family, or as a means to avoid our duties, it _would be_ selfish, but we are not.  Joining with you helps me bear the worst life throws at us.  It helps me bear the horrors of the night I was sure Tilda would leave us.”

Thranduil hugged Bard to him, and rested his head on Bard’s hair.  “I am glad you were spared the worst of it _._   I would go through it again a thousand times, to keep you from seeing our child like that.” He kissed the top of Bard’s head. 

Bard held him closer.  “Promise me something.”

“Anything.” 

Bard lifted his head to look at Thranduil.  “I love what you said, but promise you _won’t_ spare me.”

Thranduil was confused. “I do not understand.”

“It’s hard to find a way to say this right…”  Bard sighed, put his head back down on Thranduil’s shoulder, and traced his finger along his abdomen.  “I want us to protect each other, but not to the point that we keep things from each other.  We need be open about _everything,_ even the painful things, so we can face it together.”

“You are thinking of what happened in the garden.”

“Aye.  I should have told you right away, about the problems I was having adjusting.  I tried protecting you, and it all blew up in my face, and threatened to tear us apart.  I did you wrong, and I don’t ever want to do that again.”

“I did the same, when you had your nightmare in Dale, do you remember?   I lied to spare you from my anxiety, and nothing good came from that, either.”

“Exactly.  I promise, Thranduil, I will never lie to you; even if the truth will hurt you, or make you angry.  And don’t lie to me.  Whatever happens, I’ll get over it, but not if you lie.”

“To lie or keep things from each other, would be to break the trust between us, even if it is meant as a kindness.”

Bard raised his head again.  “The past couple of days taught me how much we need trust, just as much as love, and I don't want to lose either."

“You will have it, Bard.  You will always have both.”

And with that, they finally fell into a restful sleep.

And in the nursery, Esta slept peacefully beside her human pup, ready to wake, should Tilda need her.

 

***************

**The Woodland Realm; 22 nd February, 2942, T.A.**

 

Bard was the first to wake up, and despite the vigorous activity the evening before, he felt rested.

Thranduil was sleeping beside him, on his stomach, looking splendid in his black silk pajamas.  His blond hair contrasted beautifully with the shiny dark fabric, which only served to make the Elf seem even more exotic and otherworldly.

After a loving look, and a sigh, Bard carefully eased his way out of bed, and after washing and other things, went to dress. 

 _Oh, Stars…_   Bard laughed to himself, when he saw the remains of Thranduil's chair.  He didn’t realize he’d smashed the thing to pieces.

Bard was still gauging his own strength, and it was a difficult process.  Last night, however…   He shook his head and chuckled, as he put the mess in a neater pile, and reached for an everyday tunic and leggings, then tried to tame his hair, which could only be accomplished if he just pulled it all back in a ponytail, and called it a day.

He sat and looked at himself in the mirror, pensively. They hadn’t owned one, in Laketown, and who had time for anything like that in Dale, yet?

As he studied the image before him, the thought struck him: he’d _never_ look any different than he did now.  Never!  

His hair might grow, but it would never go grey, or white.  He decided the few silver strands on his temples, the lines on his brow, around his mouth, and in the corners of his eyes were a good thing.  His skin was weather-worn; it made him look older than a man of thirty-nine years. If he looked youthful and never changed, it could cause difficulty, and he wanted to wait as long as possible before he abdicated the throne to Bain.

After a few minutes, Bard heaved a sigh.  All that could wait; there were other, more pressing matters to worry about, and it did no good to sit in here, giving himself excuses to avoid them. 

After standing up, he put his shoulders back, and left the room.

***************

 

After the family, breakfasted together, and went off to their activities, Thranduil went to help Tilda with her exercises.

She was _not_ having a good morning.

“Lift your leg, again, _Tithen Pen;_ would you like to count with me?”

“No! I don’t like it!”  Tilda had an angry look on her face.

“I know, _hênig,_ but we need to get you strong, so you can run and play again.  You want to do this, yes?”

Tilda looked at Thranduil with wide, eyes that were starting to fill with tears.  “I got really really sick.”

The Elvenking put her leg back down, and sat on the bed.  He took her hand and said, “Yes, I am afraid you did.”

Her lower lip trembled.  “I don’t like…”

“What is it, sweet one?”  Thranduil put his arm around her shoulders.  “Tell _Ada_ what is bothering you.”

Tilda started to cry.  “I don’t like this,” she said again.  “I don’t like this!” and she became and frantic, and repeated it over and over, as she raged on.  “I don’t like this!” Her body began to stiffen, and thrash, as she said the words over and over.  Esta jumped on the bed, pawed at her arm, and tried to nuzzle her head under her hand.

“Shhh…   Come now, _Tithen Pen,_ let us take some deep breaths.” Thranduil held her in his arms, and put his hand over hers, to help her pet the dog.  “When you get upset, it is hard to think, and to do things, and we must keep you relaxed, so you can get better.  See how Esta wants to help?  If you feel bad, let us remember to pet her.”  He murmured soothingly to her, as he helped her run her hand over the dog’s head.

After she calmed down, he asked her, “Can you tell me what you are feeling, so I can help you?”

She looked up at Thranduil with a sad face, and her eyes were bright with tears.  “I c-can't _do_ things! I want… to be… _me_ , _Ada.”_   Her lips wobbled.  “I don’t feel like _me.”_ And she began to cry in earnest.  “I’m s-scared!”

He held her in his arms again, and was silent for a moment or two, as he looked up and rapidly blinked away his own tears.  “I know you are afraid, and I am sorry it will take so much work."  He kissed the top of her head.  "But sometimes, my Tilda, we must face things that frighten us.”  He grabbed a small towel and dipped it into some water, to clean off her face.  “Do you remember when we were all back at Dale, and the Orcs came?”

He felt her nod her head.  “Uh huh.  Bain made us hide."

"Yes, he did.  He told me he covered you with his coat, so you could not see them."

Again she nodded her head.  

“That was very nice of him.  He was very afraid, but he faced his fears so he could take care of you.”

Tilda considered this.  "I was really scared."

“I know."  He stroked her hair.  "Did you know I was _very_ afraid, that day?”

She pulled back and looked up at him.  _“You_ were scared?”

“Oh, yes.  I was very upset and afraid, for many reasons.  But I had to face my fears, because I wanted to keep us safe.  I did not want to, but I had to. We all worked together, to fight them, and we won.   And now, your Da is King, and we are still working hard, to make a home for your people.”

“Will Dale be pretty?”

“Yes, but it will take a lot of work, and there will be many, many days when your Da doesn’t like it.  He would rather stay here, with all of us.”

“He came when I got sick.” Tilda sniffed, and hiccupped, a little.

“Yes, he did.  And he will not like it at all, when he has to go back.  He will be very sad to leave us.”

Tilda looked into Thranduil’s eyes.  “He has to go.”

“You know your Da would never leave you, if he didn’t have to, _Tithen Pen._   But we are fortunate.  We not only have a nice home, here, but we have nice rooms in Dale.  Many of your people have nothing, so he needs to make sure enough houses are built by the time summer comes.  Your friends from school would like homes to live in, with their Mams and Das, do you not think?”

She nodded. 

“Do you not think your Da should help make sure they have places to keep warm and safe and dry?”

“He has to work.”

“Yes, _hênig._ He is a King, Tilda, and there are times he does not like it, but it is work that needs to be done.  Many people depend upon him, and he needs to help them be safe. And everyone in Dale is working hard, and away from their families to build the city.”

Tilda thought about this.  “I have to work, too.”

“Yes, you do, _Tithen Pen._   But you have many people who love you and want to help you.”

“I want to be _me,_ _Ada.”_

“Oh, I know, my little love."  He kissed her hair.  "You are becoming more _you_ every day, did you know that?” Thranduil tucked her under his chin.  “You are making a great deal of progress, Tilda.”

“How?”

Thranduil got up to get her exercise chart.  “See how it was when you first started,” He pointed to when she first started, “and look at how many you can do, now!”  He smiled down at her, “You speak in sentences, now.  Your memory gets better all the time, you are getting stronger, and you are eating more.  It might not seem so to you, but we all can see it.  And tomorrow, you can leave this room, and be out with us!”

“I will?”

Thranduil pulled his head back and smiled down at her, as he stroked his thumb against her cheek.  “Yes, _hênig,_ you will, and it makes me very happy.  You are doing wonderfully.  You simply need to be patient.”

“I have to work.”

That is exactly right.  Even when you do not like it, or do not want to.  We will not give up, and we will not let you,” he booped her nose, “give up either.”

“You help Da.  Like that?”

“Yes.  Now, I want you to listen to me.”  Thranduil took her little face in his hands and said, “You _will_ get better.  You need to do what Daeron and Meriel tell you, and yes, you must work _very_ hard, and be patient, but I will help you.  We love very much, and we _all_ will help you.”  Thranduil kissed her brow.  “Now, can you work hard at your exercises with me?”

She nodded, and so, they did.

 

Later, Thranduil, Galion and Elion sang at the gravesite of Iola of Dale, to send her soul to Eru and wish her peace, if she could find it.  Ina was visibly moved at the beauty of their voices, and her companion, Írimë was there to support her, while Bard stood next to Hilda. 

When it was time, Bard stepped forward to say a few general words, asking the Valar and Eru Ilúvitar to grant her peace and forgiveness in her new life. 

Then Ina stepped forward, and threw some soil on the new mound of dirt.  “Wherever you are, Iola, I wish you well.  I wish myself well, too, and I hope both of our lives will be better.”

Thranduil raised his palms skyward, and after some words in Quenya, the small service was over. 

“Thank you, My Lord.”  Ina said shyly.  “My sister is better off.  I’m sorry for all the hurt she caused, but this is much better than prison.  I’d never wish her to do away with herself, but maybe this was how it was supposed to end up.”

Thranduil nodded to her politely.  “This was a situation with no easy answers, Ina.  I doubt there ever will be.  For now, Lord Bard and I urge you to make the most of the new life you’ve been given, and to speak to Írimë if you feel confused or upset.  The Valar has a purpose for your life; it is up to you to find it.”

“You’ve both been kinder than I ever deserved.”  Ina looked very pale, and began to cry.

Írimë put her arm around the woman’s shoulders.  “Mistress Ina is fatigued; I must return her to her quarters.” 

It was true.  As they walked away, Ina leaned heavily on the Healer, and they could see she was unsteady on her feet.

 

As the two Kings made their way back to the Palace, they saw the wagons from Dale arriving, so they stood to greet the men who were there to visit.

“Hello, King Thranduil, Lord Bard,” Old Ben walked over and bowed to them.  “Fancy setup you have here.”  The man looked around in wonder at the architecture in the caves.  “Valar preserve us; this is _genius!”_

“That is indeed a compliment, from someone such as yourself.” Thranduil told the City Planner.  “My father came from Doriath, and he styled the cave after Menegroth, his former home.  King Elu Thingol ultimately deserves the credit for its design.  Sometime during your stay, I would be happy to give you a tour.”

“Aye, I’d like that.  First, I need to arrange for my rooms…”

“Oh, that is taken care of,” Thranduil gestured toward the wagons, where several Elves were unloading the luggage.  “I have set you up in a suite on the Royal Wing.  It is close to Rhian and baby Darryn; I thought you might enjoy that.”

“I would, and I thank you very much, My Lord.”  Ben looked around some more.  “Beggin’ your pardon, where is….”

“As it happens, we’re headed that way ourselves.”  Bard grinned.  “Rhian’s expecting you, and she’s anxious to introduce you to the baby.  He’s something, I tell you.”

The three of them made their way through the halls and pathways and walkways to their part of the Palace and into the wide hallway of the Royal quarters.

“This is really impressive," The man said.  “Do you know how long it took to carve all of this out?”

“My father told me it took seventy-five years to finish the basic structure, and the carvings and decorations, are ongoing.  It will always be so, I expect; my people like to express themselves.”

They showed him the door to his rooms, next to Galion’s.  “Your bags are not here yet, but a servant will bring them, and unpack your things.  Rhian’s rooms are just down the hall, on the other side.  Allow us to show you –“

“Ben!”

The Elvenking couldn’t finish his sentence, because Rhian’s door opened, and she rushed over to him, followed by Indis, who was carrying little Darryn.

“There’s my beautiful girl!”    Ben went to her and threw his arms around her.  “You look _wonderful,_ love!”

Bard and Thranduil cringed inwardly, as they both knew Rhian hated to be touched, but for some reason, the older man was able to hug the young girl with little difficulty.  They saw Rhian’s face, and while there was a little bit of nervousness, she was mostly thrilled.  Eventually, she laid her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she told him.

“Not nearly as happy as I am to see you, dear.”  He held her at arm’s length.  “Now, let me look at you…  By my beard, look at those healthy, pink cheeks, all filled out; and your eyes are sparkling.  You were always a lovely girl, but now that you've got some happiness inside, you're just _stunning_ , my girl!"

Rhian’s smile grew wider. “I missed you.”

Ben hugged her again.  “And I you, my dear girl.  It does my heart good to see you like this.  You’re prettier than a rose, love.  I always told my Cristyn how much you looked like her.  You’ve got her beautiful eyes, and no mistake.”  He kissed her brow.  “There’s a smile on your face again.  Does it have anything to do with a certain young man Lord Bard’s been telling me about?”

“Aye, Ben.  He’s so wonderful!” Rhian wiped her eyes and turned to take the baby from a smiling Indis.  “This is my Darryn.”  She said, proudly. 

Ben had to clear his throat as he peered down at the boy, who was curious about this new person. 

“Go on, he won’t break.”  Rhian handed him over.  “He likes people a lot.”

“Oh, my…”  Ben face was priceless; full of wonder,  “Well, now, young man.  Just look at you...  all that dark hair; aren't you the image of your Mam... Rhian, he's the very spit of you, when you were a _babinod…”_

Darryn waved his arms, kicked his legs and gave Old Ben a wide grin.

 The older man was positively giddy.  “Aren't you a clever lad!"

“I am sure you would all be more comfortable in Rhian’s apartment; do you not think?”  Thranduil gently guided the small group to her door.  “Have the refreshments arrived from the kitchens?”

“Aye, My Lord; thank you kindly.”

“Lord Galion and Lady Hilda deserve the credit, so I will be sure to pass along your thanks.  Now, go and enjoy your reunion.”

Rhian went in, followed by Ben, who looked like he was holding the most precious treasure on Middle Earth, while Indis brought up the rear.

Once they were alone in the Hallway, Bard took Thranduil’s hand and squeezed it.  “I’m glad we got to see that.  Makes me think of when we hold our grandchildren, someday.”

Thranduil’s face lit up.  “Grandchildren… What a wonderful thought, _Meleth nîn._   Yet another gift you will bring into my life.”

“I know how much you _love_ babies,” Bard kissed their joined hands.  “The problem is finding someone that’s good enough to marry our kids.”

The Elvenking’s face fell.  “I see what you mean.  No one will be good enough to marry our Sigrid; she is our Princess.  And Bain must find someone well-suited to be Queen, someday.  Our Tilda –“

“Don’t say it.”  Bard flinched. “Our Little Bean can't be allowed to grow up and leave us; she’s our baby.”

 “Perish the thought.”  Thranduil shuddered.  “Speaking of our baby, let us see if she is awake.”

They continued to hold hands on their way to the King’s chambers, to take advantage of every minute, because Bard would be returning to Dale in two days.

“My Lord!”  A guard came up to them a saluted.  “King Dáin sent something with the wagons for Lady Tilda.”

“Do you have it with you?”  Bard asked.

“I am afraid it is too big for me to carry, but it will be here, momentarily.”

Thranduil and Bard looked at each other.  “Good gravy… he didn’t send her a pony to ride, did he?  I know he’s attached to her, but…  Oh, Valar, do you think he sent a _pig?_   Or a goat? _”_

The Elven guard grinned.  “He sent this message, Lord Bard.  It should explain things.”  He handed a note over bearing the King Under the Mountain’s seal.

Bard took it, broke the seal, and read out loud: 

 

> _Bard:_
> 
> _Heard your wee one will be getting out of her room soon. Percy came to me with an idea to help her get around, until she’s fully back on her feet._
> 
> _Best wishes to Lady Tilda for a swift recovery, and please tell her we’re all thinking of her here in Erebor. I hope the little star I caught is helping her feel better._
> 
> _Dáin II_

 

Bard and Thranduil shrugged at each other, and looked to the guard for clues, but he would give none.

After a few minutes her present arrived.  It was a special, cushioned chair on wheels, so Tilda could get around without being carried, or tiring herself out.

It was a wonderful gesture and it would surely be put into use.  This would help Tilda to be a part of things, and to go places in the Palace.  It was the _perfect_ for her.

“That’s wonderful; it really is.”  Bard said, as he cleared his throat, and blinked rapidly. “It’ll come in handy, and she’ll love zooming around in it.”  He forced a smile.  “If you’ll excuse me, there’s something in the study I need to...”

Thranduil told the guards.  “It is indeed a very thoughtful gift, and will be put to good use.  Please take it to my chambers and explain to Galion about it, but do not let Lady Tilda know.  We will surprise her later.  Thank you.”

He turned and went to his study, and when he closed the door behind him, he found Bard sitting on one of the white couches, with his head in his hand.

Thranduil sat and put his arms around him, and pulled him close.  “It was a clever idea, _Meleth nîn."_

“I know.”  Bard put his head on Thranduil’s shoulder.

“And it will help her a great deal.”

“I know.”

“It will cheer her tremendously to be out and about, again.”

“I know.” 

“But, it is a shock to think of our daughter in such a chair.”

He felt Bard sigh. 

“And you are afraid she might need it for the rest of her life.”

Bard said nothing.  He just swallowed.

“I know, _Meleth nîn,_ I know.”

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _A, Ma!_ – Oh, yes!

 _Puitho nin!_ – Fuck me!

 _Tirhu_ _̂taw_ – sheep dog (lit. “wool guard dog.”  Esta is Middle Earth’s version of a Border Collie)

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard and Thranduil have a Very Good Day.
> 
> So does Tilda, as well as Old Ben and Rhian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2018 is here, so let's all work make it a year for peace, respect, tolerance and love. Let's abandon the ideas that divide us all, and always remember that we are citizens of the same world, which is, after all, only a miniscule part of a vast, endless universe.
> 
> W.

**The Woodland Realm, 23 rd of February; 2942, T.A.**

 

The day had finally, _finally_ come - Tilda could leave her room! 

Daeron came earlier than usual this morning, to examined her, then said, “You are progressing nicely, My Lady.  How would you like to come out and join everyone for breakfast?”

“I can?”  Tilda squealed.  “Really?”

“Yes.  There will be no more pink gowns or masks.”

“Will you carry me?”

Bard came in just then.  “We’ve got something better.  Uncle Percy and King Dáin sent something just for you.”

“What is it?”  The little girl asked.

Thranduil brought in her new wheelchair.  “What do you think, _Tithen Pen?_   Shall we give it a try?”  He smiled at her as he as he steered it into the room.

Bard came over to pick her up.  “Come on, Beanie.  Up you go.”

In a few minutes, she was settled in, with a small blanket across her legs, and Charlotte in her lap.  Bard suggested she bring all her toys, but Tilda looked at him seriously.

“Meriel and Daisy need to make friends, Da.”

“Ah.  My mistake, sorry.”  He grinned, not just because of her whimsy, but because more and more, she was talking in full sentences!  More and more, she was coming back to them.

Bard tucked her in some more.  “Are you comfortable, Little Bean?  Do you need a pillow behind your back?”

“I feel good, Da!"

“Wonderful.  I hope you’re hungry; we’ve got a little surprise for you.”

Bard followed them as Thranduil steered Tilda into the Living/Dining area, where she was greeted with cheers from her family.  There decorations and the boys had made her a banner that said, ‘Welcome Back Tilda.’  Ribbons and streamers were strung everywhere, and Sigrid and Hilda stood shoulder to shoulder, grinning madly. 

“We missed you out here, Til!”  Bain said.  “Do you like your new chair?”

“Aye! I can go places!”

“Yes, you can lovey.”  Hilda reached down and kissed her cheek.  “And look!  You can see our faces again!  Or did you like the painted smiles, better?”

“This is better.”  Tilda smiled, and hugged Charlotte.

“Are you sure?” Bain said, and he and Rhys made silly faces at her, to make her laugh.

“Come on, let’s eat!” Rhys said with a smile.

Thranduil positioned Tilda at the head of the table with he and Bard on the other side. They insisted Daeron join the celebration, so he sat next to Sigrid, and soon, the breakfast party was underway.

The surprise didn’t end with the chair.  The smithies of the Woodland Realm had fashioned a special set of silverware for Tilda.  They had thick wooden handles, carved specially to help her grip them herself, and they even made her a cup with handles on each side, so she could hold her own drink.  Despite their bulk, they were very light so that her hands wouldn’t get tired.

“I can do it myself, now!”  She said.

“Yes.  It was a nice surprise, was it not?  We will have to send them a Thank You.”

“Aye!”

Between her two fathers, Tilda managed a hearty breakfast, and enjoyed the company even more.  She even asked for a third pancake, but wanted jam on it, instead of syrup. 

Thranduil stood and held up his glass of juice.  “I propose a toast.  To our lovely Tilda, we are thankful to all the Valar you are with us, again.”

“To Tilda!” they all said together, and she just beamed around at them, as they took a drink and applauded.

“I’m glad I’m out here, too.”  She said, when asked to give a speech. “And I like seeing your faces.”

“And I am glad, also.  You worked very hard, so you can be strong enough.  Do you see?” Thranduil reminded her, “You are making progress.  You can even stand on your feet a bit longer, as well.”

“That is true, My Lady.” Daeron added.  “You are finding it easier to color the pictures your Ada has made for you, and you are able to feed yourself better.”  This was met with cheers and applause.

“And I can remember more things!”

That called for another round of applause.

“Yes, you can, love.”  Bard kissed her hand.  “We’re all so proud of you.”

“I love you, Da.” Tilda told him.

“Oh, Beanie,” Bard put his hand on his heart. “I love you more.  Always.”

Soon, it was time for the children to go to school, and Meriel arrived for Tilda’s daily lessons. 

“Do you like being out and about, My Lady?” Meriel smiled down at her.  “You look very happy.”

“Aye.”  Tilda smiled, then tried to shift a little in the chair.

Bard was concerned.  “Are you uncomfortable?”

“Only a little.”

Bard quickly folded up a small blanket and put it behind her back.  “You’re not used to sitting up like this, so your back will need to get stronger, too.  Just make sure you always tell us when you feel bad, so we can help, yeah?”

“I will.”

“We do not want you to overdo it and hurt yourself, Tilda.  Day by day, you will get used to it.”  Meriel smiled at her.  “We can come back out for lunch, does that sound like fun?  Now, I want to get your bath done, and we can get your exercises finished.  I think I will give you a massage with Athelas oil, to keep away any soreness.”

Tilda nodded.  “But I’ll be out here, more?”

“Yes, you will.  I have something else for you, too.”  She held out a small pink outfit.  “This is a swimming outfit.  Daeron tells me you are ready for us to do some exercises in your Ada’s pool!  Will that not be fun?”

“Goodie!”  Tilda clapped her hands.

Bard tousled her hair. “We’ve got to get a little work done, but we’ll be back later.  Have you shown Meriel your new doll?”

Tilda looked excited. “I will.” She looked up at the Elleth.  “I missed you.”

“I am sorry for that, but I had a friend who was sick.”

“Ada and Da brought me a doll.”

“They did?”

“Aye.  She’s pretty.”

The Elf smiled.  “Did you give her a name?”

Tilda nodded eagerly.  “I named her Meriel, because she looks like you!”

Thranduil leaned down to kiss her cheek.  “We must get some things done, _Tithen pen,_ but your Auntie Hil will be back soon.”

Bard blew a raspberry in her neck, and she giggled.  “See you soon, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Da; bye Ada!”  She said, as Meriel wheeled her back to the nursery.

Thranduil, of course knew what Bard was feeling.  “Just think, Meleth nîn.  When you come back in two weeks, she will be even better.”

All Bard could do was sigh, and put on a brave face.  “She will.  She has to.”

 

The two Kings made their way through the Palace to meet with the Gruffudd and his men.  They were all in their meeting room, only instead of cards and game boards on the table, there were papers and lists. 

“Hello, Gruffudd, making progress, I see.”  Bard went up to shake his hand.  Gruffudd grabbed his crutches and stood to bow and pay his respects.  At the same time, all the men who were able, stood and did the same.

 “You know King Thranduil, of course?”

“Can’t say we’ve been properly introduced, yet, but it’s a pleasure to meet you, My Lord.”  Thranduil was pleased to see the respect his husband garnered, though he knew Bard still wasn’t quite used to people bowing and scraping to him.  The Elvenking nodded his head and said, “It is a great pleasure to meet you, and I am impressed with your willingness to contribute to Dale, as is Lord Bard.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Gruffudd said, as he sat down again.

So, they sat down with the men, and discussed what supplies will be needed, and Thranduil told them of the work area he planned to set up nearby.  After roughly an hour, Bard and Thranduil stood up to leave.

“I’ll be returning to Dale on the morrow, but I’ll be back in two weeks for a short visit, so I’ll try to pop in to see how you are all faring.  If you could prepare regular progress reports, I’d appreciate it.  Also, as I’m sure you’ve heard, Old Ben is here this week, and he plans to see you, too.  I’m not sure when; last I saw him, he only had eyes for little Darryn and Rhian.”

“Aye, I don’t doubt it.  Ben and his missus’ve been looking out for her since she was a wee one. She’s better of now, and so is the little lad.”

The Elvenking agreed, then said, “I am happy to inform you that that several casks of ale have arrived from Erebor.  We also found equipment to brew your own, if you wish.  If you start now, the first batches can be ready to send to Dale, if you wish.  You may also consider this equipment a gift, to open a brewery there.

Gruffudd’s eyes lit up.  “That’s good news indeed, My Lord.”  He looked across the table one of the younger men.  “Rodric!  Looks like you’re in business, again!”

The dark-haired man, who was still using a cane, grinned.  “Just tell me where, My Lord.”

Thranduil nodded to Rodric.  “I can send someone to show you tomorrow, if it is convenient.”

“Aye.  Sounds good to me, My Lord.  I used to run the best pub in Laketown.”

Bard nodded.  “That you did, Rod.  I always enjoyed a pint or two when I came back from the river.”

“You were a good customer, Lord Bard.” Rodric turned to Thranduil.  “It’ll feel good to be back to work and be useful.  Me and my missus appreciate it.  We’ll be having our third _babinod_ come June, so I’ll need a way to support them.”

“When you get back in the spring,” Bard instructed, “make sure you meet with Alun, to help you get the business, set up, but I would ask you, when the Pub is up and running, to keep your policy of cutting off customers when they’ve had too much.”

“Of course, My Lord.  That’s always been an ironclad rule in my establishment.  Saved  me a load of trouble, through the years.”

“How are your boys, Rod?”

“Doing real well in the school you and Lord Thranduil set up; we’re real proud of them.  They both say they want to join Dale’s Army, when they get older.  I’m all for them wanting to protect the city like that, but I confess the missus is nervous at the thought.”

Thranduil could understand that.  “My son and daughter are soldiers, Roderic.  I salute your courage.  People often forget that families of our troops serve their country, too.  You and your wife are worthy of as much praise as your sons will be.”

“Thank you, Lord Thranduil.”  The man was touched.

Thranduil told the men that the Elven carpenters would be by tomorrow, to coordinate their efforts, then he and Bard got up to leave.

 

They stopped at the school to check on the children’s progress, but they also needed to speak with Bronwyn and Daeron.  The guard was standing near the door by their table, and Bronwyn was leaning over Rhys, showing him a correction to a maths problem.

After motioning for them to step outside, Thranduil asked Bronwyn.  “Mistress, I wish to know how the children are coping with the incident on the walkway.  Are they distressed at all?”

“I’m afraid the older kids saw the woman jump.  The tables with the younger students are farther in the back by the kitchens, so they were shielded, thank the Stars.  Daeron was at the door and as soon as he saw the scuffle, he ordered the doors shut, in case she got loose, but the kids were looking in the direction of his shout and saw the whole thing; I’m sorry, My Lord.”

Bard shook his head.  “It’s no one’s fault.  There was no time to do anything else.  How are the children with it?”

“Most are fairly matter-of-fact, but Hilda and I have arranged for the students to see someone to talk to, if they need to.  We’ve been telling them that Miss Iola was very ill, and wasn’t thinking right, and it was an unfortunate accident.  It seems to help, and we made sure to move on with a normal routine, and keep their minds occupied.  Children have a gift for getting on with things.”

Thranduil nodded to her, “That is good to hear, Mistress.”

“If you’ll excuse me, My Lord, I must be getting back to my class.  They’re good kids, but you can’t take your eyes off them for long.”  She smiled.

“Of course, and thank you.”  She curtsied to Bard and Thranduil and went back inside.

Daeron looked guilty.  “I apologize for Sigrid leaving the Dining Hall, My Lord.  My first duty was to protect the Prince and Princess, and I failed.”

Thranduil looked at the Guard thoughtfully.  “You did assign, what you assumed to be, a capable subordinate to take over, did you not?”

“Yes, My Lord.  But it is ultimately _my_ responsibility to make sure the children are safe and protected _at all times._   Lady Sigrid should have never made it out of there, even if she had to be physically restrained.”

“Daeron, your service to my family has been exemplary, and Dior and Elion are alive thanks in part to your efforts.” Thranduil assured him.  “Your Sargent was given a task, at which he failed miserably.  Has he been disciplined?”

“Yes, My Lord.  He was brought before Captain Adamar who suspended him without pay.  He is also considering a demotion.”

“Good.  I will meet with you, Adamar, and this officer in my office later this week.  I will not tolerate _any_ failure like this.  Not when it comes to the Royal Family.”

“Yes, My Lord.  We are at your convenience.”

“Galion will notify you, as to my availability.”

Bard spoke up.  “May I say something, Thranduil?”

“Of course.”

“Sigrid is just as much at fault as your officer.  Although she regrets her impulsive behavior, I want her to formally apologize to all involved, for her mistake.  In fact, if _any_ of the children disregard their protection, I want them to be disciplined thus.  They _must_ be made to understand the seriousness of this; it could save their lives, one day.”

Thranduil agreed, then turned to Daeron.  “Lieutenant, I hold you blameless in this matter.  You have shown nothing but the utmost dedication to your duties, and you should be able to depend upon your subordinates, as needed.  In addition, Lady Sigrid will meet with you, your father and this Guard to make amends.”

Bard was confused.  “Is Captain Adamar your father?”

“He is, My Lord.  He is a Captain in charge of the Palace and all the Gates.”  Daeron said, proudly. 

“Really?  I know Indis is your Aunt, but have I met your mother?”

“You do not see her much, My Lord, but you have eaten her cooking.  She runs the kitchens in the Palace, and she has personally made the special treats to tempt Lady Tilda’s appetite.”

“Idril has been in charge of the Royal Family’s meals for centuries.” Thranduil told Bard. “I do not think you have been introduced, but you know what she looks like, as Idril and Indis are identical twins.” 

“Really?  That explains why you and Turamarth look so much alike.” 

“We grew up together like brothers; he and I are very close.”  The Guard told him.  “If you will excuse me, My Lord, I do not wish to be away from my duty for very long.”

Bard nodded.  “We’ll either be in Thranduil’s study, or in with Tilda. But first, can I ask the two of you a question?” Bard looked pensive.

“Of course, My Lord.”  Daeron said, and Thranduil nodded.

“I don’t know how I’m able to…connect like I do when I had my hands on Elion, and even Rhian.  I thought it was just a matter of lending my strength to Thranduil, because we are bond-mates, but I could do it with you, and Elénaril, too!  It’s really _me_ doing it and I don’t understand.”

Thranduil and Daeron looked at each other, and they smiled. 

“Do wish to tell him, or shall I, My Lord?”

“I think you should.”  Thranduil said.  “If I tell him, he may think I am just flattering him.”

Daeron grinned, then said to Bard.  “My Lord, there is an ancient prophecy that says Kings have a power to heal.  The world of Men regards this as an old wives’ tale, but there is much truth to it.”

“A prophecy?  What exactly does it say?”

_“’The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.’”_

“Really?”

“Yes, My Lord.  I do not know to what extent you are gifted, as I do not know your heritage beyond that of Garon the Founder.  It is known to Elves that living among the Dúnedain are those of the line Númenor, and they also possess such gifts, because their line can be traced back to Lord Elrond’s twin brother, Elros, who chose the fate of Men.  The Stewards of Gondor are also descended from Númenoreans, as well as possess Elvish blood.  It is possible your own bloodlines go back to that time.”

Bard looked at Thranduil with wide eyes.  “Do you think that’s true?”

“I do.  When you are assisting an Elf in the Healing process, you are a true participant; I have felt your power; although it is not nearly as strong as mine, it is nonetheless present.”

“Do you think that’s why Dior’s heart started again when I pounded it?”

“Perhaps, although it is more likely to be a serendipitous incident.”  Thranduil looked upon his husband fondly, then he nodded to Daeron.  “Thank you, Lieutenant.  Galion will contact you to arrange the meeting.  You are dismissed.”

The Guard saluted them both, and returned to his duties.

As he and Bard made their way to their quarters, Bard said, “So…I’m a healer, too?”

“So it would seem, and that has nothing to do with our marriage, _Meleth nîn._   You are a King.” 

Bard pondered all this.  “You were right, that day we spoke after the Battle; I was King the minute I set foot in Dale to claim it.  Everyone knew it but me; you were just the poor, unfortunate soul who had to convince me it was so.”

Thranduil smirked and raise his eyebrow at his husband.  “So, have you learned your lesson?”

“What lesson?”

“What happens to a man who slays a Dragon, loses his home, leads refugees to his ancestor’s Kingdom, fights a terrible Battle, falls in love and marries an Elf, thereby becoming Immortal, in just a matter of weeks.” Thranduil raised an eyebrow.  “Next time, you will think twice, will you not?”

“Aye.” Bard shook his head and grinned.  “Next time I inherit a Black Arrow, into the Lake it goes.”

They both laughed at each other, before Thranduil said, “Your life is not destined to be a quiet one, _Meleth nîn._   And since I met you, _mine_ has been chaotic.”

“True,” Bard leaned in to whisper, “but there have been a few compensations, don’t you think?”

“Such as?”

“We have a good time in bed.  And the dressing room.  And your office…”

Thranduil slid a sideways glance at Bard, “Hmmm…the sex _is_ outstanding...   I think it would behoove me to accept the chaos, do you not think?”

“Well, maybe not _accept_ , but I think you could learn to live with it, if you tried.”

“I could.” 

Bard laughed, but then stopped and turned to him.  “I don’t regret becoming a King, Thranduil.  I meant what I said; even if I had to do it alone, I would still accept the responsibility”  He put his hand on Thranduil’s chest.  “And I don’t regret marrying you.  I meant what I said about that, too.  I was in love with you, and I wanted you, even _before_ we understood what would happen.  In fact, it’s better now, because you’ll never have to worry about separating from me.”

Thranduil looked deeply into his eyes, and covered Bard’s hand with his own.  “And I meant what I said, _Meleth nîn._   You are my forever, and I am yours.”

Bard looked at him, only half-joking, “So, if you can just forget every single word that came out of my mouth out there in the garden...”

“I wish I could, but perhaps that is best that we cannot, for two very important reasons.”

“What would those be?”

“The fear of it happening again will teach us restraint.”

A sigh came from Bard.  “That’s true. What about the second part?”

“We had a nice respite from the world, which we both needed, and the sex was…” Thranduil grinned, slyly.  “extraordinary.”

“Ooh... the ‘make-up sex.’”

“Is that what Men call it?”

“Aye.”

They both laughed, as they passed the suite they had been thrown into earlier that week. 

 “We should make a point to get away, for a day or two each month.” Bard mused, “so we can lie around naked and just be with each other.”

“I like the way you think, Bowman.”

“That’s ‘ _King_ _Bowman,’_ to you.”

 

***************

 

Later, they were working away in Thranduil’s office, when they heard a knock on the door.

_“Neledho!”_

Hilda stuck her head in.  “I don’t know what that means, but I hope it meant, “Come in.”

Thranduil grinned.  “It did. What can we do for you?”

The door opened wider, and she entered, accompanied by Rhian, and Hannah, who was carrying Darryn, and Old Ben, who carried a bundle of papers in his hands.

“Good morning, My Lords,” Ben bowed his head.  “It’s actually me and Rhian who need a favor from you, Lord Bard.  I’ve heard you’ll be returning to Dale tomorrow, and I need your seal and signature, if you approve.  Me and Percy were talking, and Alun helped me prepare this document. I’ve shown it to Rhian, and she’s full willing, if you are.”

Thranduil and Bard looked at each other, then at the folks sitting in front of them.  “What is it?”

Ben and handed the packet of papers to Bard.  Bard opened it, and as he read it over, a big smile appeared on his face.

“What is it?”  Thranduil asked. 

Bard handed it over to him, and Thranduil read, in Alun’s neat, ornate script:

 

**_City of Dale_ **

**_Petition for Adoption_ **

**_20 th of January; 2942, T.A._ **

_With regards to the Adoption of **Rhian of Dale** , by **Benjamin, son of Jon, of Dale:**_

**_I, Benjamin, son of Jon_ ** _, formerly of Laketown, now of Dale, declare that I am a person of respectability and good character, and am willing and able to provide for **Rhian,** formerly of Laketown, now of Dale, daughter of the late Phylip of Laketown, and widow of the late Garth of Laketown._

_It is my petition and my fervent prayer, that after this date, and with the blessing, seal and signature of King Bard of Dale and the undersigned witnesses, that **Rhian** be declared hereafter my child, and henceforth be known as **Rhian, daughter Benjamin** , and her son, **Darryn of Dale** be declared my grandson, as well as any other future child born from her._

_It is my petition to my King, and fervent prayer to the Valar, that, after this date, **Rhian** will be declared my **legal** **heir,** and shall be entitled to all my worldly goods at the time of my passing into the next life.  Should she precede me in death, I declare that **Darryn, son of Rhian, and any other children born from her** , shall be declared my heirs._

_It is my vow to my King, as well as the Valar, that **Rhian and Darryn, as well as any future children born from her,** that I will, to the best of my ability, protect and provide for them, with all the material needs and education they require, to the very best of my ability.  _

_Lastly, and most important, it is my vow to my King, as well as to the Valar, that **Rhian and Darryn, as well as any future children born from her,** can be confident in my undying affection and emotional support as her father, and that, as long as a breath remains in my body, it will always remain so, in this life, and will continue in the next._

_I hereby declare these reasons and intentions to be the absolute truth, and by my signature, and the signature of these witnesses, I vow to carry out these intentions to the very best of my ability, should my King be willing to grant this petition._

**_Benjamin, son of Jon, City Planner of Dale   20 th of January; 2942, T.A._ **

****

**_Witnesses:_ **

_We, the undersigned, have each been personally acquainted with Ben, son of Jon (petitioner), for over twenty years and fully attest to his character and integrity.  It is our firm belief he is worthy and able to carry out his good intentions toward Rhian of Dale._

**_Percy, son of Daffyd, Steward of Dale, 20 th of January; 2942, T.A._ **

**_Alun, son of Alwyn, Treasurer of the City of Dale; 20 th of January, 2942, T.A._ **

Thranduil put the paper down, and smiled at them. 

“So…  What do you think?”  Hilda asked Bard and Thranduil, eagerly.

Bard smiled at the small group.  “Before we continue with this, I’d like a few minutes with Rhian and Hannah alone.  If you could step into Galion’s office for a few moments, I’d appreciate it.”  He looked at Thranduil.  “Lord Thranduil, Rhian and Darryn are currently under your personal protection, so if you would consent to stay, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course, I will.”

Ben got up with Hilda, and they stepped out into the Hall, with Darryn.

Both Kings studied Rhian’s face, carefully for a minute or two, before Bard spoke.

“This all sounds wonderful, Rhian,” Bard told her.  “But I need to make certain this is what _you_ want.  You’re just learning how to make your own decisions, and I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing something you’re not _completely_ comfortable with.  Would you like some time to think about this?  I’m happy to give excuse and take the blame, so you won’t have to feel bad about it.”

“No, My Lord; I don’t need it.” She smiled, shyly.  “I’ve known Ben and Cristyn my entire life. He wrote me weeks ago, and asked me to think about it.  I’ve talked with Hannah, too.  Ben’s not _anything_ like my father or Garth, I promise.  He really loved his wife, and treated us both with kindness.”

“I remember Cris; she was a kind woman, and Ben was good to her.  I don’t think you’ve anything to fear there, but I need to know before agree to this: how are you doing with everything else?  I see you’re making progress, but is this the right time to be thinking of something like this?”

“I am positive about this decision, My Lord.”

Bard looked over at Thranduil.  “Do you have any concerns?”

Thranduil said, “I agree with Lord Bard.  I am your protector, and I must be sure you are well enough to decide something like this.  I wish for you to be well and happy, but I cannot allow this if you are at all pressured to please anyone.”

“I understand, My Lord.  Ben showed me the paper yesterday, and it was my idea to come see you now.  I know Lord Bard is leaving soon, and I wanted to make sure you signed it before you left.”  Rhian’s face was full of honesty and earnestness.  “ _I want_ to belong to a good and kind father.  I’ve never had that, and ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wished that Ben and Cristyn were my parents.  He understands what I went through, and promises to help me any way he can.”

Bard looked to Hannah.  “She’s your patient; are _you_ satisfied she can handle this, without any setbacks?”

“I am,” the Midwife nodded.  “I’ve known Ben and Cris for years, and I also knew Rhian’s Mam, before she passed; she’d want this for her Rhian.  This is a good thing, My Lord.” 

Hannah addressed Thranduil.  “I appreciate concern for our girl, My Lord.  Ben and I have spoken at length, as to what Rhian needs, and he’s adamant that she still be under my care in the spring, when we return.  He will do whatever is needed to help her.  He’s loved this girl, like his own, since she was born.”

Bard looked at him.  “Lord Thranduil, will you give your consent?”

The Elvenking smiled.  “If all this is true, you have my blessing.  I would also like to say how proud I am, to see you in my office, with no visible signs of anxiety.  That, more than anything, shows me you would do well to be the child of Ben, son of Jon.”

“Wonderful!” Hannah clapped her hands together.

“Thank you!” Rhian grinned.  “Thank you so much!”

Thranduil smiled at the girl sitting before him, with a protective eye.  He had taken his responsibility toward her seriously, and was glad to see her doing well. 

Bard was right; the girl was attractive, but now that he could see the happiness in her eyes, she was a true beauty, and reminded him of his Mírelen.  Best of all, his foresight told him Rhian would rise above her cruel beginnings, and shine in all the best ways possible.  What Thranduil saw before him was, a very strong young lady.  She didn’t know it yet – she wouldn’t for some time – but the flower of Rhian’s potential was truly beginning to bloom, and he was glad.

Bard stood, and went to the door.  “Could you come in, please?”

After everyone was seated again, Bard said, “We have interviewed Rhian, and believe her consent is genuine, and of her own free will.  While we are still concerned with Rhian’s well-being, Lord Thranduil and I are convinced that this adoption will not hinder her progress, and will greatly benefit her and the child.”

Hilda was thrilled, and Ben cleared his throat and reached for his kerchief.  “Aye, that’s grand.  Just grand.

 “Hilda?”  Thranduil motioned for her to come closer.  He whispered something into her ear, and she nodded, handed him the baby, and left.

 “What?”

Thranduil just smiled.  “You will see.”

Soon, Galion was summoned to look over the papers, make sure all was in order.  Alun had provided three copies of the consent papers, so it was just a matter of making sure the wording was consistent, and proper.

There was a knock on the study door.

 _“Neledho!”_  Thranduil said, still holding Darryn, although Bard was getting ready to take him.  He’d been pestering the Elvenking for the last few minutes to hand him over.

In came Daeron.   “You wish to see me, My Lord?”

Bard stood, “I’m glad you’re here!”  He came over and brought him to the table.  “Ben have you met this Elf yet?”

“No, can’t say I have.”

“Well, allow me to introduce you to Daeron, my Chief Guard and personal Healer to the Royal Family of Dale.”

Ben stood and grabbed his hand, eagerly.  “So, you’re Daeron!  I’m happy to meet you, my boy!  Rhian’s wrote me all about you!”

Daeron was stunned.  “Thank you…”  Then his face showed recognition.  “You are ‘Old Ben!’  You saved Rhian the night of the fires!  She talks about you fondly, and I am very honored to meet you.”

Then he took in the sight of Rhian, sitting around the table with everyone.  “It is wonderful to see you here, Rhian,” he smiled at her.

Rhian smiled shyly.  “Thank you. I feel good, today.”

“This is excellent news, _Mellon nîn.”_ He turned to Thranduil.“Is there something you need, My Lord?”

“I have invited you to be a witness to a very happy occasion.  Ben of Dale, wishes to legally adopt Rhian as his daughter and heir.  It seems only fitting, that you should be a part of it.  You are her friend, as well as her and the child’s savior.”

The Guard was very touched.  “I… would like that very much, My Lord.  Is that what you wish, also?”  he asked Rhian.

She beamed up at him.  “You saved our lives, Daeron; you _should_ be here.”

Soon all were seated on Thranduil’s comfortable furniture, and Ben and Daeron were getting better acquainted.  As they all chatted and fussed over Darryn, Thranduil noticed, how natural the Elven Guard was with the baby.  Daeron seemed genuinely happy to be here, and joined in the conversation easily.   When Rhian spoke to him, however he was slightly different; he was friendly, but… careful, restrained….  

After a minute or two of observing him, he suspected the reason why, but there was no time to ponder the situation, as Galion reappeared with the documents. 

Bard and Thranduil arranged everyone in a semi-circle, with Ben and Rhian in the center as Daeron held his namesake.

Bard smiled and began the ceremony:

 “Ben, son of Jon, I have received your petition, stating your wish to legally adopt Rhian as your daughter and heir, and to grant her all the rights and privileges thereof.  Are you prepared to love her, provide for her, and to take responsibility for her health and well-being, as your child, until and beyond your death?”

“I am, My Lord.” The man said proudly. 

“Rhian, of Dale,” Bard turned to her, “Is it your express wish for Ben to become your legal father?  Are you willing love him as a daughter and to accept all the rights and responsibilities, as his legal daughter, until, and beyond his death?”

“I am, My Lord.” Rhian said, in a sure and confident tone. 

“In addition,” Bard turned to Daeron, and took the baby.  “Ben, son of Jon, do you agree to also bring into your family, Darryn, son of Rhian, as your legal grandchild, and as well as all children born to her, and to grant him all the rights and privileges hereof?  Are you prepared to love him, help Rhian provide for him, if necessary, and to assist in whatever way is needed, now and beyond your death?”

“I am, My Lord.”  Ben cleared his throat at this point.  Darryn kicked his legs and spit up on Bard, to show his enthusiasm, and, of course, Thranduil handed his handkerchief to  him, to clean it up.

“I think this little man wants a Grandda,” Bard laughed, and gave the child to Ben.  Bard turned to Rhian with a grin.  “Rhian of Dale, is it your express wish for your son, Darryn, and all the children born to you, to be grandchildren of this man, Ben of Dale?”

“I am, My Lord.”  Rhian smiled happily. 

As if in agreement, Darryn let out a loud squeal, which made everyone laugh.

“He is pleased with the idea, is he not?  Now, please bow your heads.”  Thranduil said, then placed his hands upon them, to give his blessing: “Rhian of Dale, I see your decision has been freely made, and hereby extend my blessing, and best wishes to you.  As of this day, as of this moment, I am no longer your protector, as I now pass that responsibility to Ben, son of Jon, fully confident in his ability to care for and protect you, for the rest of his life and beyond.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” Rhian said, quietly.

“I'll do right by her, My Lord.” Ben said, his voice a bit gravelly.

The Elvenking stepped back, as Bard came forward and placed his hands upon Ben’s and Rhian’s heads, and stated.  “As your King, it is my great honor to declare that as of this day, as of this moment, you are a true and legal family, and you’ll remain so, until parted by death, and it’s my fervent prayer to Eru and all the Valar, that this loving relationship will continue beyond that, into the next life.”

Bard lowered his hands, and grinned.  “Congratulations, Ben, it’s a girl!”

Ben smiled, and put his arm around Rhian.  “Have you got a hug for your old Da?”

Everyone clapped and cheered, as Rhian threw her arms around him.  “I’ve wanted this ever since I was a little girl.”  She smiled down at Darryn, and ran her fingers through is dark curls.  “Look!  It’s your Grandda!”

After Ben, Rhian, all the witnesses signed the documents, Bard and Thranduil affixed their Signature and Seals, and Galion and Thranduil presented Ben with a small carved box, to keep his copy of the adoption papers in.

“A gift, to commemorate such a happy occasion.”  Thranduil told him. 

“I thank you both.” Ben said, as he admired the design on the box.  “This will hold a place of honor in my house.”

Soon servants brought trays of sweetbreads, butter, fruit and cheese.  There was also a large pot of tea, and a decanter of wine.

“I decided a small celebration was in order.”  Thranduil said.  “Shall we make ourselves comfortable?” 

Soon, they was a festive atmosphere in the study, as Hilda poured out, and made sure everyone had something to eat.  Rhian sat beside Ben and smiled at him, as he kept wiping his eyes.  “I just wish my Cris was here to see this, love.  She’d be so happy.”

The girl put her hand on his arm.  “I think she is, even now.”

He didn’t say anything, but he patted her hand. 

Thranduil stood and proposed a toast to the new family, which was the first of many best wishes made.  Daeron and Ben seemed to enjoy each other’s company, and Rhian was as relaxed and happy as Bard had ever seen her. 

After a short while, though, Darryn began to fuss and cry.  “I’m sorry, everyone, but he needs changing, and wants his lunch.  Thank you everyone!”  Hannah followed her, saying she had another patient to check up on.  Ben and Daeron said their farewells, as Ben headed for his rooms, and Daeron returned to his duties.

Hilda got up, and helped Galion clear the dishes, so the servants could take the trays back to the kitchens.  Then she made to leave. “I’ve got to go relieve Meriel, so she can be there when Dior wakes up.” 

“Please, tell her we will join them, shortly,” Thranduil said

“I’ll do that.”  She came over and hugged them both.  “I’m proud of you both.”  She said.  “You did good.”

After she left, Bard took his hand.  “It’s a good day to be King.”  He grinned.  “Come on.  Let’s go wake up your friend.”

 

Once they arrived at the infirmary, Elénaril came up to greet them with a smile. “I am glad you two are here; there is something you will want to see.”  She led them down the long hall, to the same room Rhian had stayed in. 

Hannah was just coming out. 

“We’re seeing a lot of each other, today.” Bard said.

“Aye, that’s true enough.” 

“Is something wrong, Mistress?”  Thranduil asked, concerned.

The woman beamed.  “Not a thing.  Lord Bard, your newest subject is here!  Seren had a baby girl, last evening, and she’s healthy as a horse.  Ten fingers, ten toes and ready to face the world.  She’s nice size too; just over eight pounds, from what I can gather.”

“That’s wonderful!  How’s she feeling?”

“Wonderful, all things considered.”  Hannah explained to Thranduil.  “This is her third, you know.  Her boys are staying with friends, and they’ll come and see Mam and new baby sister, tomorrow.”

“Can we see her?”  Bard asked.

“She’s awake now.  Go on in.”

They grinned at each other, as Bard knocked on the door, and laughed at Thranduil’s eagerness. “You just love babies, don’t you?”

“I do.  All Elves do.”

“Come in.” They heard a tired voice call out.

Bard stuck his head through.  “I hear Dale’s population increased by one, Seren.  Congratulations.”

“My Lord!”  Seren sat up straighter and smoothed her straight, brown hair.  “I’m honored you both came to see us.”

“The honor’s mine.”  Bard tiptoed over to the cot.  “There she is!  Oh, look; her hair’s red, just like her Da!  Llywelyn will be pleased as punch.”

“Aye, that he will.” She chuckled. “He’s been wanting a wee girl to spoil.”

“When’s he coming to visit?”

“He’ll be coming with Lord Percy, next week.  We both wanted to wait, so he could see the new baby.”

“Llewelyn and I were lads together,” Bard told his husband.  “Seren’s right; he’s been bellyaching for a girl, and he’ll be thrilled she has red hair, like him.  His Mam made the best apple pies I ever tasted, but don’t tell Hilda that.”

“Do your other children look like you?” Thranduil asked the woman.

Seren laughed.  “Aye, the spitting image of me, with my brown hair and coloring. Our boys are a rambunctious pair, but we wouldn’t be without them.”

“I’d like to give Llewelyn the good news, if I may.”  Bard said.  “I’m going back to Dale tomorrow.”

“That’d be most kind of you, My Lord.”

The little girl opened her blue eyes, and started to fuss. 

“Can I hold her?”  Bard asked.

“Of course, My Lord.”

Bard picked the little girl up, and soothed her, and soon, the baby was gripping Bard’s finger and sucking on it. Thranduil stepped over and smiled at the tiny little face.  “She is beautiful, Mistress Seren.  She is also a citizen of the Woodland Realm; did you know this?”

“Really?” The woman looked surprised. 

“Of course; she was born within my borders, so is entitled to a dual-citizenship.  It is a tradition, among my people, that all newborn babies be presented to the King, to declare his or her name.  May I have the honor of doing so, with your child?”

“Please do, My Lord, and thank you.  I’ve named her Liliwen, because she looks so much like my husband.”

“He’ll _love_ that.” Bard carefully handed the now-sleeping child over to Thranduil. 

After he settled her into the crook of his arm, the Elvenking raised his hand and held it over her, saying:

“I, Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm, declare your name to be Liliwen, daughter of Llywelyn and Seren, of Dale.  I hereby bestow upon you, citizenship of the Woodland Realm, as well as Dale, and formally name you Elf-friend.  You, as with your mother, your father and your two brothers, shall be entitled to and accorded all the protections and benefits, my Kingdom has to offer.  You all will be granted assistance and safe passage in my Realm, for as long as you all shall live.”

Seren was visibly moved.  “Thank you, Lord Thranduil; you’re very kind.  I don’t know what to say…”

Thranduil smiled down at the woman, and handed her the infant.  “I wish you joy, My Lady.  Your little girl is very well-behaved.  Baby Darryn usually responds to me by burping or passing gas.  He vomited on King Bard, earlier.”

“Aye, a typical boy, he is, then.”  Seren giggled. “I don’t know how prim or proper this one’s going to be, though.  I was a terrible tomboy as a child, and with two older brothers, I expect she’ll be digging in the dirt and mud soon enough.”

“My daughter, Tauriel, was the same, and she worked hard to become a Captain in my Guard.  I am glad to hear you will encourage Liliwen to be herself, however she turns out.”

Bard observed the scene with a full heart; he loved seeing his husband like this.  Not a lot of people got to see the great and powerful Elf King be so tender, and Bard always felt it a privilege.

“I’m afraid we have some people to see, Seren.  Congratulations, again .”  Bard smiled, and nodded his head. 

Thranduil put his hand over his heart and saluted her, and they went back out into the hall, toward Dior’s room.  Meriel had just entered the infirmary, and looked at them with anxious faces.

“Is he awake, yet?”

“Not that I know of,” Bard told her.

Thranduil put his hand on the small of her back.  “Come, _hênig;_  I am sure everything will be fine.”

They entered to find Dior still asleep, but his color was much better.  Elénaril came behind them, and went to stand at his head.

“Are we ready?”

Meriel nodded, and stood on his other side, and took his hand, and tried to put a brave smile on her face.

The Healer recited some Quenyan, and shook him softly.  “Dior?  Dior?  It is time to join us again.  Your King is here, as well as Meriel; we all want you to come back to us.”

Dior’s breath deepened, and they waited patiently for him to come back to consciousness in his own time.  Thranduil had told Bard, back in Dale, how dangerous it was to hurry this process.

Eventually, Meriel said, softly, “He squeezed my hand.”

“That is a good sign.”  Elenaril leaned over him again.  “Dior?  All is well.  Your King awaits you; Meriel is here, and she would much desire to speak with you.”

The Elf’s black eyelashes fluttered, and slowly he blinked himself awake.  Meriel stroked his brow, and whispered.  _“Ci vaer, Dior?”_

“Meriel…”  Dior breathed.

 _“Mae g'ovannen, Mellon nîn.”_   She whispered.

But Dior shook his head, and brought her hand to his lips.  _“N'uir thiad gîn 'ell, Meleth nîn.”_

Bard didn’t need Thranduil to translate, as they watched Meriel kiss him, with tears of relief.  These were words anyone in love could understand.

The Elvenking stepped forward.  “How do you feel, _Mellon nîn?”_

Dior turned his head toward his King, and blinked in confusion.  Then the Captain began to recollect recent events, and tried to sit up.  “My Lord –“

“Do not trouble yourself.  All is well, and we will discuss events _only_ after Elénaril deems you fit.  Until then you are to rest, and regain your strength.  That is an order, Captain.”

“But wh –“

“Dior, everyone in the Palace is safe, including you, thank the Valar.  Lord Bard helped to save your life, which is an interesting story, when you are ready to hear it.”

The Guard looked at him in wonder.  “I am in your debt, King Bard.”

"As am I," Meriel smiled down at Dior.

“There is no debt.  Suffice to say, all is under control and taken care of.”  The Bowman grinned down at him.  “If I were you, I’d enjoy the attention from this lovely lady.  You're a lucky man.” 

During all this, Elénaril was checking his vital signs.  “All seems well, considering.  You will be here for another four days or so, and on complete bedrest, so do not try anything heroic.”

“Do you expect him to make a complete recovery?” Bard asked.

“I do, _if_ he behaves himself.”  The Healer smiled, as they watched Meriel stroke his hair and hold his hand.

“I am not worried.”  Thranduil agreed, and winked at her.

 

After they said their goodbyes, it was time to go back to their chambers to spend the evening with the children.  Tilda was excited to have dinner with them, and later, she sat in her Da’s lap, and enjoyed the family banter by the fire and was happy to be with everybody.

Not surprisingly, she soon fell asleep in Bard’s arms, so when it was time for bed, they couldn’t resist putting her in between them, so Bard could hold onto his Little Bean for a while longer.

Thranduil kissed the little girl’s hair, put his arm around Bard, and he leaned into him. 

“It was a good day, _Meleth nîn.”_ He kissed Bard’s hair.

“A very good day.” Bard whispered.

And it was.

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Neledho –_ Enter (command)

 _Ci vaer, Dior?_ – Do you feel well, Dior?

 _Mae g'ovannen, mellon nîn –_ Hello, my friend.

 _N'uir thiad gîn 'ell, Meleth nîn_  – Ever is your presence a joy, My Love

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard has to leave for Dale in the morning, and struggles with it, but luckily he's got a husband who wants to ease his stress. 
> 
> Later, Thranduil tells him of an observation Galion shared with him, with regards to the conflagration in the King's Garden, and Bard ponders this during the long ride back home, and he becomes better acquainted with Gildor, who tell him of the children he adopted.
> 
> After Bard arrives in Dale, he is greeted by an enthusiastic Thangon, and is happy to tell his friend Llewelyn the news about his new daughter. 
> 
> But first, he sits Alun down and tells him the news about his family.

 

 

**The Woodland Realm, 24 th of February; 2942, T.A.**

 

Bard tossed and turned throughout that night.  He was at war with himself, as he struggled with the strong pull between his family, and the responsibility toward his Kingdom. It felt wrong no matter where he was, when their family was divided like this! His life in Laketown wasn’t a happy one, but at least it was simpler.

“What is it, _Meleth nîn?”_ Thranduil whispered in the dark, as he rolled over and reached for him.

“I’m sorry, love; I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Thranduil’s arms enveloped him, and he kissed the back of his neck. “You are torn in two, but it will not always be so.  Spring will come, and we will all return.”

Bard rolled over to face him.  “How do they do it, Thranduil?  Members of your military have to leave their families all the time.  How will you do it?  You say you plan to spend most of your time in Dale; how will you feel when you are absent from your own Kingdom?”

“I will do my best then, as you are doing your best, now.  It is all we can do.”  Thranduil kissed his cheeks, his eyes, his nose and his brow, before he hovered over Bard’s lips. “Let me bring you comfort.”  Then he kissed Bard deeply, as he ran his fingers through the dark, thick curls he loved so much.  “Let me comfort myself, for I will ache for your touch, when you are not here.”

Thranduil got up, closed the door to the nursery, leaving it open just a crack, in case Esta needed to alert them.  He silently moved back to the bed, and gently removed Bard’s night clothes, as well as his own.

 _“Gi melin, Bard.”_   Thranduil whispered, as he kissed his way down Bard’s neck.  _“Ci uir nin.”_  

“And you are mine…”  Bard sighed, and closed his eyes. 

Very slowly, Thranduil kissed and licked and teased Bard into arousal, until his whispers became urgent.

He moaned softly, as Thranduil stroked his insides, and he could feel the rush of heat surging through him.  “I need you, love…  please…” 

When Thranduil entered him, they both stopped breathing from the sensation.  They became still for a moment, as he settled himself, and waited for Bard to adjust.  He looked down at Bard with eyes as smooth as the Long Lake on a clear, calm day.  Bard loved the Lake, and he loved how Thranduil’s eyes made him think of it, just as his own eyes reminded Thranduil of the forest he loved. 

Their eyes were made to please each other, we well as their bodies, but it was their hearts that pleased each other most of all.

Thranduil nuzzled their noses together.  “I will think of this moment, and how beautiful you look underneath me; you are so perfect, Bard.”

“I will think of you above me, with your hair surrounding me like a white curtain, and feeling so full of you, I can hardly breathe. I love everything we do, but this is my favorite; it makes me think of our wedding night.”

Thranduil answered with a smile and a loving look, and moved his hips slowly, as Bard savored every bit of it.  He took hold of Bard’s hands and intertwined their fingers, and watched his Bowman’s face, as he thrust into him.

“Oh, love…”  Bard panted, as he wrapped his legs around him.  “More… I need all of it…”

“I will give you everything I am, _Meleth nîn._   Now and always.”  Thranduil whispered, before he kissed him, hard.

The movements became urgent, as his ardor rose, and soon Thranduil lowered his head and captured Bard’s mouth in a filthy, hard kiss, to muffle his own moans, as he was close to completion. 

“Oh…”  Bard could feel his Elf’s orgasm begin to wash over him, and enjoyed the feel of the waves of it throughout his own body, he put his feet on Thranduil’s buttocks, and made him thrust harder.  “Come for me, love.  Give it all to me; I love you so much.”

Thranduil’s mouth hovered over his own, as he gasped to completion.  Words weren’t possible, but they weren’t necessary.  Their shared _fëa_ sang with joy, and it expressed everything they were feeling as they saw the sun and stars in each other’s eyes.

But the Elf wasn’t done yet.  As soon as his own orgasm faded, he slowly pulled out of Bard, and kissed his way down his stomach, to wrap his lips around Bard’s cock, and began to suck him, hard, as his tongue teased and tormented him.

 _“Bloody fuck,”_ Bard moaned, as he sank his fists into silky blond hair and threw his head back.  “Oh…”  He couldn’t help the way his hips were bucking, it felt so good.  Thranduil’s hands lightly teased the inside of his thighs, and after a minute or two, inserted his fingers into Bard’s loose entrance to tease his prostate.

That did it.  Bard’s jaw when slack, as he tensed.  His legs shook, and his toes curled, as he came down Thranduil’s throat, and the swallowing motion only served to heighten his orgasm.  He couldn’t breathe, he was coming so hard.  He knew Thranduil felt it too, as he moaned around Bard’s cock, his hands gripped around his legs, his fingers dug in, and Bard could feel the Elf’s hips thrust against the mattress, as he, too, enjoyed Bard’s release.

For a few moments, they lay in each other’s arms waiting for their breathing to return to normal.  After they washed, Bard reached for his sleeping clothes, but Thranduil stopped him.

“I want to feel you, tonight _Meleth nîn_.  We can put something on quickly, but I need to feel your skin next to mine.”

Bard nodded.  “I’d like that, love.  Just let me check on Tilda, and I’ll be right there.”

He put on his robe, then opened the door quietly, and smiled when he saw her spread-eagled on her belly.  He picked up her toys, then tucked her back in, with a stroke to her brown hair. Then he crawled back into bed, so Thranduil could put his head on Bard’s shoulder.

“Each time we are together, it is a revelation, _Hervenn nîn.”_

“It is,” Bard whispered, against his hair.  “It really is.”

“May I ask you something, Bard?  You do not have to answer, if you do not want to.”

“Ask me anything, love.  Everything I am is yours, anyway.”

“Was it like this, with your wife?”

Bard smiled, in the darkness.  “I know what you’re thinking, because I sometimes wonder the same thing about you and Mírelen.  It’s all right to ask, love. Obviously, she was a woman, so we didn’t go about things the same way, and it felt physically different.  With Mattie, it _was_ wonderful, and I’ll never forget it, but it wasn’t like it is with you.  She was very passionate, and it was exciting and beautiful, but it had a…different sense about it; I felt protective, when I made love to her.  I wanted to surround her with me, and keep her safe.”  Bard smiled.  “As much as I loved being with her, I really enjoy ‘the Elf Thing.’  How could I not love it when my pleasure is doubled?  I didn’t feel Mattie, like I do you.”

“This is true.  Physically, there is no denying Elven sex is better, but I understand how your love for Mattie made your coupling very beautiful.”

“That’s exactly it.” Bard agreed.  “But you don’t know anything other than ‘the Elf Thing,” he said.  “So, how was it with Mírelen?"

“It was also wonderful with Mírelen.  Being with her was always extraordinary, but with you it is…. primal.”

“That it is. When you and I go at each other, I can’t tell you what it does to me.  I’m kind of glad I’m stronger now, because you don’t have to hold back, and I can give as good as I get.” Bard snickered. “I love it, when we get wild!  It…unleashes something in me I didn’t even know was there.”

Thranduil chuckled into his chest.  “When you roared like an animal, and broke my chair with your bare hands, I nearly came, just from the sight of it.  I will not soon forget the feral look on your face, surrounded by wild, black hair.  It was exciting.”

“Galion was nice enough not to mention the furniture, when he cleaned up the mess.”  Bard snickered.

“Not to you, perhaps, but I am sure to be plagued with comments for a long time.”

“Good.  You should be plagued for how you plagued me.”  He sniffed, and was met with a light smack on his chest.

“You started it.” Thranduil told him.  “Spank an Elvenking, and you will always be brought to justice.”

“I’m counting on it.”  Bard yawned.  “I think I can sleep now, love.”

Soon they were nestled the way they liked best, with Thranduil gathered in his arms against his chest. Bard drifted off to sleep to the wonderful scent of his hair filling his nostrils.

 

**The Woodland Realm, 25 th of February, 2942 T.A.**

Bard had to leave this morning, as much as he hated to. 

He and Thranduil had said their private goodbyes, before the children woke up.  They didn’t make love, but spent their time holding each other, and whispering words of love and consolation at their separation. 

 

~o0o~

 

“I know I’ve said it, and I know you believe me, but I have to tell you, again: I’m sorry for blaming you.  You’d sooner die, then let _anything_ happen to our children, or my people; I know this.  I love you, with _everything in me,_ Thranduil.  I don’t want you to lie here alone at night, and think about those terrible things I said, because they were lies.”

 “I know.” Thranduil hugged him tightly.  “In fact, I am glad you brought this up.  Galion spoke to me yesterday about some concerns he had, because your behavior was so out of character.”

“Oh?  What does he think?”

He wondered if what possessed Iola was more than just an illness.  He thinks there might have been a true evil involved; which was passed along from Ioan to his daughter, and when she died, perhaps the remnants of that evil in Iola did not want to leave Middle Earth forever; it wanted to continue to inflict harm.”

Bard laid on his back and thought about it.  “What do you think?”

“I believe it is possible.  While we were ‘prisoners,’ Galion sent a message to Mithrandir of his suspicions.  If the Wizard has any insights, I will be sure to share them with you.”

Bard sat up.  “If that’s true, it makes sense; I didn’t feel like myself, _at all._   I couldn’t understand it, and I’ve never lost control like that, ever.  All those the things I was saying…I couldn’t stop; even when _I knew_ they were lies!  Then, as soon as I had said the worst thing possible, it felt like all that anger and hate left…”  He looked at Thranduil with concern.  “I’m not sure what to think about this.”

“The more I consider Galion’s theory, the more plausible it sounds.” 

Bard made up his mind, then took Thranduil’s face in his hands.  “It _doesn’t matter_ so much _who_ or _what_ made me do that.   All that matters, is that you know how much I love you, and that I’m sorry.  Even if some evil spirit took me over; it was still _me_ doing it, and I still need to be the one to take responsibility.  I won't act like a victim.” 

Thranduil put this hands on Bard’s wrists, and kissed him.  “I am glad.  And you are right; it is important that we faced it, because in the end, it made us both stronger.  If we tried to shift blame, we would learn nothing, and we would be weakened.  Love overcame it; Galion’s and Hilda’s love for us, then our love for each other.”  He brought their foreheads together.  “You love me very much, _bôr thalion ni_ _̂n.”_

“What does that mean?”

Thranduil kissed his forehead.  “You are my steadfast, trustworthy man.”

Bard looked into his eyes and was filled with happiness.  His heart, and his life was full to overflowing, and in this moment, he could face anything, as long as he knew those beautiful eyes were there for him, come what may.

And he would; that was the best part!  Even if something happened, and one of them had to spend time in Mandos’ Halls, they would eventually be together again, and he would have those eyes to fall into until Arda ended.  Bard would wait for him, and Thranduil would patiently wait for Bard.  They _would_ be together, till the end of all things.

It was impossible not to bury his face into Thranduil’s neck, and take in the feel and the scent of his Elf, and they held each other tightly for a long while.

 

~o0o~

 

The children tried to be upbeat at the breakfast table, because they knew their Da would return soon, but Tilda was not taking it well, to no one’s surprise.

“So, Beanie; you know I’m coming back soon, yeah?  I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, and I need you to work hard, until I see you again.”  He put his arm around her, at the table, and helped her drink her juice.  “Now that you’re out and about, you’ll be too busy to miss me.  Sigrid can take you down the hall, so you can see Rhian and baby Darryn, and I know Old Ben wants to see you, too.”

“It was nice of him to want to be Rhian’s Da.” 

“Oh, I think Ben’s the lucky one.  And, do you remember who’s coming to see you all in just five days?”

“Uncle Percy!”

“Aye.  It was his idea for you to have this chair, so you can get around, did you know that?”

She shook her head, tearful.  “But I don’t want you to go, Da!  Can’t you stay?”

“Do you remember why I have to help the people in Dale?”

“Ada says you have to work on houses for everybody.”

“Yes, Beanie, but it’s more than that.  They need someone to take care of them.  You have _Ada,_ Auntie Hil, Galion, Daeron and Meriel to help you.  You’ve also got your brother and your sister, and Rhys, love.  You’re lucky to have so many people who want to look after you, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, there are some people in Dale who don’t even have _one_ person, and they need me to make sure they’re all right.”

“Are they sick, too?”

“No, love.  But if I don’t look after them, they could be cold and hungry, and they _will_ get sick.   I have to look after them by making sure they have good, warm homes to live in. I have help Commander Feren, to make sure Dale is as safe so you all can come back.  King Dáin –“

Tilda immediately reached for her necklace.  “He gave me this.”

“Yes, he sure did.”  Bard booped her nose.  “King Dáin and I have to make sure the high walls the Towers get fixed, so we can protect the city.  I must make sure we have supplies, and medicine, and all kinds of things.  I am King, and it’s my job, love.”

Tilda’s lip was wobbling, but she was trying to be brave.  Esta came over and pawed her arm gently. 

“Hey Little Bean.  Look at Esta; she wants you to pet her.”

Tilda began to stroke the dog’s head, and after a minute or two, she calmed down.

“There, now… Isn’t that better?  Now, when Uncle Percy comes you need to tell him all about Esta, and show him all the cards your friends made you.  You’ll probably be well enough to have him take you all over the Palace, I’m making it your job to show him around; can you do that for me?”

“Really?”

“Well, Sigrid and Bain are going to be busy at school, and their afternoon lessons, so I’m counting on _you_ to keep him out of trouble.  We don’t want him burning the place down, do we?”

She smiled a little.  “He won't.”

“You never know, Beanie.”  He got up and kissed her head.  “I’m sorry, but I need to get going. Come on, everyone: where’s my hugs?”

They had decided that Bard would say his goodbyes to the children in their chambers, because they didn’t want Tilda out so much just yet. Sigrid and Bain hugged him, then he knelt in front of Tilda’s chair, and put his hand on her cheek.  “It’s going to be all right, Little Bean.  Auntie Hil and Sigrid will help you write me letters, yeah?  I’ll work real hard to get you all home to Dale as fast as we can.  And you’ll be very busy getting well, that will take work too.”

“I love you, Da.” She held her arms up, for him to envelope her into his arms.

“I love you, too.”

He bent down to give Esta a scratch behind the ears.  “Look after my little girl, will you?  And keep these other’s in line, yeah?”  The dog put her front paws on him and wagged her tail.  “That’s a good dog.”

Hilda came over and hugged him.  “We’ll see you soon, love.”

“You’re a treasure, you know.”  Bard held her tight.  “Dear as my own Mum.”

“Pish; I’m no treasure,” she laughed.  “I’m a precious jewel.” Then she kissed his cheek. “I couldn’t love you more, if you were my own son.”

Galion got a hug, too.  “Thank you, my friend.  For everything.”  Bard whispered.

The Elf was touched.  “We will see each other soon, and I will look after our family.  Have a good trip.”

After ruffling Rhys’ hair and a last wave, Thranduil walked him through the Palace to the Main Doors.  Everyone he met from Dale smiled a wished him safe journey, as he gave them a friendly wave.

“It is one thing, _Meleth nîn,_ to become King because of your birthright, but you have _earned_ this, just as much as you were born to it.  Look around you!  Your people love you; they do not care who your sixth great-grandfather was.”  Thranduil smiled at him.  “I am fortunate to be with you, Bard.  I love you, but I also greatly admire you.”

Bard was touched.  “That means a lot, coming from someone who’s had this job for almost three thousand years.  If I can impress the great and mighty Elvenking, I must be doing something right.”

“You do many things right, and the thought of them will occupy my thoughts, during the night.”

“You Elves are a horny bunch, aren’t you?”

Thranduil laughed.  “Can you blame me?”

“Nope.  I wouldn’t want you any other way.”  They were in front of the Doors, and the guards opened them, and there was Fînlossen, neighing and tossing his head, and stamping in his eagerness to get on the road.

They held each other tight for several minutes. 

“I love you, you know.”

Thranduil let go of him.  “And I, you, Bard.  Safe travels.”

Bard tore himself away, mounted stallion with an ease and grace he was still getting used to, and with a shout from the guard, rode off.

 

***************

**City of Dale, 25 th of February, 2942 T.A.**

Bard spent the hours riding to Dale deep in thought.  The past four months have been difficult, but at the same time, the most joyous.  Everything about his life now, was just...  _more._  

He still couldn’t believe how cruel he’d been to his husband in the Garden that day.  Just the thought of it made his stomach flip, but what followed was blissful time alone with his Elf, and he wouldn’t have traded that for _anything._  

He was interested to hear Gandalf’s thoughts about  Ioan’s evil finding a victim in him.  It didn’t permanently affect him, and he felt fortunate.  Evil cannot remain where love and friendship dwells; if this _‘thing’_  truly did enter him, love destroyed it, once and for all.  Hilda and Galion loved them enough to shove them together, and the love between Bard and Thranduil completely destroyed it. 

Love is more powerful than anything.

“My Lord?”

Bard looked to his left to see the Lieutenant from his escort rode alongside.

“ _Daro_!” the Elf ordered everyone to stop, and they all listened carefully.  Bard could hear several bird calls from the line of trees on the south side, and he watched the soldier’s face, carefully.

“What’s the matter?” He asked the Guard.

“There is a small Orc pack, less than quarter-league South of here.”

“Should we go take care of them?”  Bard asked. 

“No, My Lord.  The sentinels have already sent messages to the Palace, and troops will be dispatched from there.”

“But we’re closer and we could –“ Bard began.

“We will not, My Lord.” The Elf told him.

“But that’s ridiculous!  We’re here, and we can take care of it –“

“Lord Bard!” the Elf said sternly.  “My orders are to get you safely to Dale, and that is what I shall do, regardless of your objections.”  He barked out some quick orders in Sindarin, then spoke to Bard’s white stallion.

 _“Fînlossen! Lelyë_ _Si!”_

Before Bard could react, the horse underneath him took off like a shot, and he was surrounded by his Elven Guard, and running at a full gallop.

After a half-hour or so, the Lieutenant allowed the party to stop and he listened again for signals from the guards among the trees.

“We are safe, My Lord.”  He told Bard.

Bard felt sheepish.  ‘I shouldn’t have argued with you; I apologize.  You were following your King’s instructions and it was wrong of me to disregard that.”

The Elf gave him a small smile.  “I do understand your position, Lord Bard, and I respect your courage.  Please understand; it is not an act of weakness to run, nor does denote a lack of leadership.  Your safety is essential for your Kingdom and the entire North.  It would be foolish to allow you to risk your life over something that our own people can easily take care of.”

“You’re right.” Bard sighed, and gave the Elf a wry smile. “I’m still getting used to this.  I just recently had to reprimand my oldest for not listening to her own guards.  She’s a determined young girl.”

“Princess Sigrid also possesses courage, My Lord, as does Prince Bain.”  The Guard told him.  “Young Princess Tilda is also fighting a courageous battle.  My prayers are added to yours for her to be well.”

Bard was touched. “Thank you.  Your people have been most kind to our women and children.”

“It has been a delight to see them in the Palace, My Lord.  I have assisted Daeron in teaching the young boys’ classes in weaponry.  We have also begun to hold lessons in self-defense for your women.”

“Thank you for that.  If any of them want to train, I’m all for it.  They proved their worth during the Battle.”

The Lieutenant smiled.  “The people of Dale are tough and resilient.  I share My King’s confidence in all of you, and look forward to seeing Dale in its glory, once again.”

“So, you were there before, too?  I keep hearing how much I look like Girion." Bard grinned.

“Yes, you do, My Lord.  Your eyes are different, though."  He added with a grin.  "It was not so long ago; for Elves.  You have seen the drawings and paintings, but nothing will compare, when you see your Kingdom with your very own eyes.  I look forward to hearing your thoughts, then.”

“I will be sure to seek you out, then…  I’m sorry; I don’t know your name.”

“I am Gildor, son of Gwindor.  I was born in the Woodland Realm, but I am named for a Great-Uncle, who lives in Rivendell with my grandmother’s kin.”

“How old are you?”

“I am 1678 years old, My Lord.”

Bard laughed, and shook his head.  “I still struggle to get my head around that.   Do you have a wife or family, if I can ask?”

“I do have a wife; she is a Guard inside the Palace, and she helps to teach classes for your women.  She is only slightly older than I am.”

“Any children?”

Gildor smiled and nodded his head.  “We have now, my Lord.  Lady Hilda has graciously allowed us to adopt a boy and a girl who were orphaned by the Dragon.”

Bard now recalled the names, from the lists he was given.  “Now I know where I’ve heard that name before!  Your wife is… Enelyë, right?”

“It is.  She has taken a sabbatical from her duties, to care for them and help Dylan and Rowena adjust.”

“Are they having difficulty?”

“Some, My Lord.  They are ten and eight years of age, and they miss their parents terribly.  Lady Hilda has been working closely with us.”

“Would taking them back to Dale help?”

“We cannot, I am afraid.  Our duties require that we live in the Woodland Realm.  That is all to the good; we feel the children will do better to stay in the Palace, and Lady Hilda and their teachers agree.  The different sights and sounds give them some distraction from their loss.  Neither child wishes to live in Dale, but we will visit as often as we can, so they can see their friends."

“Do they feel comfortable with you?”

Gildor smiled.  “More and more every day.  Rowena is easier, of course; she is about Lady Tilda’s age, and an affectionate child.  Dylan has been standoffish, and he feels his parents’ loss keenly; especially his father.  I have been easing into it, and he is turning to me more and more.  My wife’s parents gifted him with a lovely chestnut gelding, and I am teaching him how to ride and care for him.   We are following Lady Hilda’s and Mistress Bronwyn’s advice and encouraging both of them to speak of their late parents, whenever they wish.”

“That’s just what I want for all those kids.  If your new son and daughter do better with the Elves, so be it.  I just want them to be loved and happy.”

“They are, My Lord, you have my word on that.”

 

Soon, the high walls and the West Gate of Dale were in sight, and the bells rang, to announce their arrival.  There were cheers, and good wishes shouted out, as Bard and Fînlossen made their way to front of the Great Hall.

Percy was there to greet him at the large platform at the top of the steps.  “It’s about time you got back.” He grinned, and embraced Bard tightly.

“How’s our girl?” he whispered, looking into Bard’s eyes.

“She’s…  getting better every day.” Bard gave him a weak smile.  Then he shook his head slightly and made his voice cheerful.  “She is anxious to see her Uncle Percy; all the kids are.”

“And as soon as I let go of that wife of mine, I’ll be giving those Sea Monsters plenty of attention.”  The older man smiled.

“Well, the Little Bean plans on showing you all over the Palace, so that chair you sent was a big help.” Bard told him, as they walked inside the Great Hall, followed by the crowd.  “She came out of her room yesterday, so she’ll have plenty to distract her, till I get back there.” He grinned at the older man.  “I’ve put Tilda in charge of keeping you out of trouble, so don’t be surprised if she takes that seriously.”

Percy laughed.  “Making that child laugh will be my pleasure.  We’ve all been waiting, so you’re going to have to say a few words to the men here about Tilda.”

“I will, as soon as I see Tauriel and - **_OOOF!!!”_**

Bard was suddenly flung to the ground, the wind was knocked out of him.  

Thangon had heard Bard’s voice and raced down the corridor and into the Hall, barking the entire way.  As soon as the giant dog saw Bard, he yelped, and threw himself at his Master with unbridled joy and began to wash his face.

“ _Phfft_ … _phfft_ … Gods, you big… _pfttt_ … _**goof!** ”_ Bard spit out, as the huge pink tongue smothered him.  The dog was laying on top of him, and his full weight was keeping Bard from taking a decent breath.  “It’s all right, Thangon,” he said what the little air he had left in his lungs.  “I missed you, too… now, let me get up, will ya?”

All the men were roaring with laughter, as Feren made his way through the crowd to pull Thangon off by his collar, and helped him up.

“Thanks Commander.  Guess the big guy missed me.” Bard brushed himself off, and tried to wipe the slobber off his face.

“So it would seem.”  Feren grinned.

“Bard!”  A feminine voice was heard, and soon he was surrounded by strong arms and long, red hair.  “I’m so glad to see you!” 

“Hello, Tauriel.”  Bard grinned.  “How are you?”

“I am all right.” The red-head didn’t look all right.  “How is Tilda?  How is _Ada,_ and Sigrid and Bain?”

Bard took her hands.  “There’s every indication so far, that Tilda will be fine; it will just take some time.” He smiled at her.  “They all miss you terribly, especially your _Ada_ and Galion.” 

Tauriel looked relieved.  “I miss them, too.”

“We’ll talk later, all right?” Bard told her, “I want to catch up with how you are doing.”

Thangon couldn’t stand it, and put his front paws on Bard’s shoulders, with his tongue hanging out, and hugged him again, forcing Bard to take a step back and stay upright.

“Go on; get down, you.”  Bard laughed, as he pushed the dog away.  Thangon got down, but stood beside Bard and leaned on him, heavily, and Bard lurched to the side, before he steadied himself.  “I love you too, boy.  Just hang on a minute.”

Bard stood up on a chair and gave a short speech to the residents, letting them know of his daughter’s condition, and thanking them for their concern and prayers, and explaining his reasons for another trip in two weeks.

Percy had been right.  Everyone was supportive, and no one disputed his plans for future trips.

“You do what to need to take care of your bairns, My Lord,” were the gist of all the comments he heard shouted out at him.

“Thank you all!  I’m glad to be back, and eager to keep working.”

He nodded at the applause, and made his way to his room, to throw his rucksack on his bed, then went to his study with Alun, Percy, Feren and Tauriel.

“So…  What did I miss?”  he asked them. 

“Nothing, really.” Percy said. “Building has slowed a bit because of the snows, but we’re keeping at it.”

Feren added.  “The joint-Army maneuvers went well, and I was pleased at how well my troops worked with General Dwalin’s men.”

“Tell me, Feren,” Bard asked, “did you get the sense the Dwarf troops were willing to do this, or was it because Dáin and Dwalin forced them?”

“To be honest, Bard, it was both.  Many of the Dwarves still have a grudge about our confrontation, before the Battle. I have to say, there are a few Elves who have similar feelings.”

Bard sighed.  “I can understand that.  It’s only been three months, and, all things considered, I think it’s a miracle we’re doing as well as we are.  I give you and Dwalin the credit for your strong leadership.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Feren was pleased at the compliment. “We were pleased to see some of that animosity dissipate.  Over time, things will get better.”

 “Now,” Bard smiled, “I want to tell you I had the great pleasure of finalizing Rhian’s adoption yesterday.  Ben is thrilled to have a daughter and busts his buttons over his new grandson.”

Percy grinned.  “Aye, that’s good to hear.”

“It is,” Alun told him.  “It was a pleasure to write up the papers. She couldn’t do better than Ben.  I’ve heard the same from the men.  They all take it badly that any among them would hurt a woman like that.  I think that’s a good sign for Dale; things like that won’t be accepted, whether there is a law written about it or not.”

Bard was pleased to hear it.  With so many changes going on, preserving his people’s culture for tolerance and respect is most precious, and something that can't be forced.

“You’ll be happy to know Rhian’s a different girl than the one who left.  That baby is growing like a weed, too.”

“Good!”  Percy clapped his hands together.  “How’s my wife?”

“Busy as ever, and anxious to see you.  You should see how she runs the place, and, as usual, runs our family with military precision. It's fun to watch her order Thranduil around, but I think he enjoys it, though he won't admit it.  All the orphans seem happy, and I’ve checked out the Guild training some of the women are taking.  The Elves are bending over backwards to help; and they’re thrilled to pieces that some of the kids will be staying.”  Bard told them about Gildor’s children, as an example.

Then Bard couldn’t put off an unpleasant task any longer.

“Unless there’s anything pressing, I need to speak to Alun alone, for a while, and if someone could fetch Llewelyn for me, I’d appreciate it.”

After the others left, Bard turned to Alun.  “Something has happened, and I didn’t want you to be told by messenger.”

“Is it Rhys?  Oh Stars…”

“No, no, no…  He’s fine; in fact, he’s doing well at school, and he was a big support to all of us when Tilda was at her sickest.  Thranduil said he never left Bain’s side.”

Alun sat back, relieved.  “Thank the Valar.”

“You’ve done well by that boy, Alun; you’ve a lot to be proud of.  Thranduil told me he sees great potential for him; and thinks he’ll be a wonderful Commander, when Bain becomes King.”

The man grinned from ear to ear.  “I’m very proud of him.”

“What I have to talk to you about, concerns your mother and your aunt, Alun.  I know we spoke of the idea of shipping them off to Bree, but things have changed, and you need to know about them.  I met with their guards, and based on their observations, decided it was necessary to interrogate them.  According to their testimony, and that of several corroborating witnesses, I’ve decided to release your mother, and I sentenced your Aunt Iola to prison. 

Alun’s eyes went wide.  “Wh…  What?  I don’t understand.”

“Alun, when you were living with them, was it your mother who abused you the most?  I’d like you to think about it, for a minute.  I can understand your anger for not protecting you, and your anger for not protecting Rhys, but was it Ina, or your Aunt, who did the screaming, and the beating?”

“Well, I guess I lumped them together in my mind.  But my mother beat me, too.  Not nearly as often, but…”

“I can believe that, but when she did, where was your Aunt?”

“Oh, she was always there; shouting and egging her on.”

“Did you ever hear her say that if your mother wouldn’t do it, she would?”

“Aye; all the damned time.  I _hated_ that woman.”

Bard nodded.  “When they were confined, they didn’t know the guards could understand Westron, and they overheard evidence to indicate that your mother was just as much a victim, as you and your son were.  And things were just as bad as we feared about your Aunt.”

“What do you mean?”

“Iola freely admitted to the murder of your grandfather, and,” Bard inhaled, “and she killed your father, Alun.”

The man’s face went deathly pale. “Oh, gods…  _Why?”_

“She wanted to keep control over Ina, and was afraid she’d leave her alone.  She put something in his tea, and when he passed out, she pushed his body into the Lake.  I’m so sorry, Alun.  I truly am.”

“When you were a baby, Alwyn sensed the violence in your grandfather, and made plans to leave Laketown with you and your mother.  He was going to take the two of you to Bree, to get you away from your grandfather and Aunt, but Iola overheard them talking in secret, and killed him.  Your father loved you, Alun, with all his heart, and he loved your mother, too.  I know it doesn’t bring him back, or change anything, but I know that all he wanted for you, was to be safe and have a happy life.”

Alun blew out his breath.  “That’s what my grandparents always told me.”

“I know.  Alwyn’s Mam And Da were good people, and taking you in was the best thing for you.  I’m glad you had them.”

“But…why did my mother stay?  She could have left…” His eyes became red, as tears filled his eyes.

“Technically, yes, but Hannah, the midwife has experience in cases like this.  Remember, she’s helping Rhian, too.  She helped us understand that your mother suffered terribly, and was too beaten down to believe she could take care of you.  Your father made sure she felt helpless and worthless, to the point she believed it.  Cruelty like that can force people into doing things they’d _never_ normally do.”

“So, she…”  Alun looked at him.  “How do you know that’s true?  How do you know she’s not just making excuses to get out of trouble?”

“That’s a fair question, and we did consider this.  Her guards observed conversations between them, and had to stop Iola from beating your mother a few times.  Even when they were in King Thranduil’s office, she attacked Ina, right in front of us, and all your mother could do was cower with fear.

“We also met with Rhys.”  At Alun’s worried look, Bard was quick to reassure him.  “It only lasted five minutes.  Let me tell you exactly what happened, all right?”

Alun nodded, but was still skeptical. Bard pulled a letter out of his pocket, bearing the King of the Woodland Realm’s seal. 

“This is Lord Thranduil’s report for you, as Rhys’s guardian, and we both want to assure you that Rhys handled it beautifully, and wanted to help.  In fact, the King made sure the boy understood that his _only_ job there was to help Rhys, and assured him that, if he got the least upset, Thranduil would immediately stop the meeting.  I asked him three or four questions and that was it.”

“And he’s fine?”

“He is absolutely fine.  His biggest concern, afterward, was a test at school.” Bard smiled.  “Anyway, you’ll find that Rhys’s account will agree with Thranduil’s report.”

“Where is my mother now?”  Alun asked in a strangled voice. 

“She is staying in a set of rooms, apart from everyone else, and is receiving constant care.” Bard said.  “She’s a broken woman, Alun, she’s extremely fragile.  I think she’ll always be delicate, but at least now, she has a chance at some peace.”

Alun sat still, and tried to take in all the Bard was saying. 

“I’ve ordered her not to contact you or your son, and she understands she needs time to get better, and for you to process all of this.  If you still don’t wish contact, after some time has passed, she said she’ll respect your wishes.  It will all be up to you, Alun, and what you think is best for you and your son."

“I don’t know what to think...”

“I can imagine.” Bard put his hand on Alun’s shoulder.  I’m not asking you to change your mind about _anything,_ Alun; I want you to know that.  I just want to let you know what we discovered, and that your mother is receiving the best of care.  All I want you to do, is look after yourself and your son, do you understand?  You’re under no obligation in this, and if you never see her again, no one will judge you.”

They sat in silence for long moments, as Alun rubbed his eyes.  “I… wasn’t expecting this.”

“I know, my friend.”  Bard closed his eyes and sighed.  “I wish that was all, but, I’m afraid there’s more.”

Alun looked at him, and swallowed.  “Oh, shit…  What happened?”

Bard sighed.  “You were right about your grandfather.  He was a sick, twisted _monster,_ and your aunt was driven mad by his abuse, or maybe she inherited her madness from him; we’ll never know.  After she confessed to both murders, I was forced to send her to the dungeons, but she’d hidden a hand-made weapon in her corset...”

“What?  Oh, gods…  Was anybody hurt?  Where is she now?”

“I’m afraid she caused serious injury to her guards, then she threw herself over the railing of the main walkway, and fell to her death.  I’m sorry.”

Alun sat back in shock.  “Oh, Valar…”

Bard got up, and poured his friend some whiskey. 

“Here,” he handed the glass to him. “This will help.”

Alun didn’t argue, and grimaced after he drank it down.  “I just…can’t believe it.” he said, quietly.  “I…” Alun looked at him sharply.  “The main walkway is right in front of the Dining Hall!  Did the children _see it?!”_

“I’m afraid so.” Bard had to tell the truth.  “As soon as Daeron saw what was happening, he quickly ordered the doors shut, but the older kids saw the struggle witnessed her jump, but they didn’t see anyone working on the guards.  All traces of blood were cleaned up within hours.”

“Are they all right?”

“I will get to that, but first, I want to let you know: we spoke to Rhys _right away._   He did see it, but he assured us that he wasn’t too affected.  Bain has been looking after him at school, and makes sure the other children don’t ply him with questions or comments.  Mistress Bronwyn has arranged for _any_ child who is stressed to have someone to talk to.  Rhys is _fine,_ Alun, but I’ll understand if you want to go see him.  In fact; I think you should, for your own sake.”

He poured the man more whiskey, and urged him to drink it. Then lunch arrived, and he made Alun eat something. 

“I have to know…What happened to her guards?” Alun asked.

“Both are on their way to a complete recovery.  More important, I understand your concern, but you’re not responsible for any of this, so whatever guilt you’re planning on feeling, let that go _right now,_ understand?

The man nodded.  “I see what you’re saying.  And yes; I’d like to see my son, if that’s all right.  As long as Rhys isn’t upset, I’ll wait until after Percy comes back.  I won’t let him delay his trip for me, and I don’t want to leave you with two men gone.”

“I appreciate that.  You may speak with King Thranduil about your mother’s condition, but I want to urge you not to try to see Ina.  She’s under the care of an Elven Healer named Írimë, and King Thranduil will not go against her recommendation.”

“She’s that bad off?”

“Aye.  She is currently extremely depressed and on a 24-hour suicide watch.  But she’s receiving excellent care, and, again, Alun, you are _not_  expected to be responsible for this.  Just go, and look after your son, and take some time for yourself.”

“Thanks.”

There was a knock on the door, and Percy stuck his head in.  “Llewelyn’s here.”

“I’ll be right out.” Bard looked at Alun.  “You can stay here, if you need some time alone…”

“I think I’ll go out for a walk.”

“That’s fine.  Take Thangon with you.” Bard smiled. “He’ll cheer you up, whether you’ll like it or not.”  He looked down at the dog, who had put his head on Alun’s knee, with concern in his eyes.

“Aye, I’ll do that.  He’s a grand dog, My Lord; and he and I have spent quite a bit of time together, while you were gone.”  Alun patted the giant head, and scratched the dark muzzle.

After Alun left, Bard went to the Great Hall and saw Percy and Llewelyn standing by the kitchens, and Llewelyn had a worried look.

“Is my wife all right?”

“Absolutely.” Bard grinned.  “In fact, she’s more then all right; you’ve got a new baby daughter!”

 The big red-headed man grinned from ear to ear.  “It’s a girl!  Are they…”

“Mother and daughter are absolutely fine.  She’s beautiful, Llew.  King Thranduil gifted your daughter with a traditional Elven naming ceremony, and granted her dual-citizenship for both Dale and the Woodland Realm.  You and your family are guaranteed protection and safe passage throughout his Realm for life.”

Then Bard stood up on a chair, and motioned for everyone to be quiet.  “I’m happy to announce Dale has a brand-new citizen!  Llew’s wife Seren, gave birth to a beautiful baby daughter three days ago, with a head full of flaming red hair, just like her Da!  Now, let’s all have a round of drinks to wet this baby’s head!” 

There was a round of cheers and applause, and soon everyone was coming up to shake Llewelyn’s hand, and the kitchen staff hurried to pour out drinks, to toast the new arrival. 

Bard held up his tankard of ale.  “May young Liliwen have a long and blessed life, my friend!”

Llewelyn pounded the table with glee.  “A red-head!  I’ve got me a little redheaded girl, named after me!”

“You’ll be seeing her next week, with Percy, then?”

“You just try and stop me; King or no.” the man grinned, as he brushed the drink out of his moustache.

“I wouldn’t dare.  Congratulations; Dale can always use another Princess.  And she’s got two big brothers to look out for her.  You’re a blessed man.”

Llewelyn nodded, happily.  “I’ve got a daughter…” Then he smiled at Bard. “There’s nothing like it, is there?”

“All the gold in the world couldn’t compare.  And, the best part it is, she has her Mam’s pretty face.”  Bard raised his glass.  “Here’s to little redheads, and their homely Das!”

Llewelyn roared with laughter, “I’ll drink to that!”

 

Later that evening, Bard and Tauriel had a quiet drink in front of the fireplace in his chambers.  Thangon took his usual place on the bed, and was yipping softly and moving his paws in his sleep.

Bard smiled over at him.  _“That_ will take getting used to, again." He shook his head.  I can’t believe I missed that goofball, but I did."

They sat for a while in comfortable silence, but Bard noticed she’d been unusually quiet, and was hoping she’d feel comfortable enough to let him help, if he could.

“I hear you spent some time at Erebor while I was gone?” he asked her.

She nodded, and looked down at her drink.  “I helped with the construction some, but Lord Percy made me go; and told me not to come back for a week.” She smiled a little.

“Maybe you needed it.  You seem sad, Tauriel."

“I truly like living in Dale and being a part of it, Bard...”

“But?”  Bard prodded gently.

“It was… difficult… when Tilda got so sick, and I was…  I was afraid something would happen, and if she were to die, I could not…”  A tear rolled down her face.

“We were _all_ afraid she would die, Tauriel."

“Yes, but if something terrible were to happen, everyone could go…”

Bard sat back and looked at her with sympathy.  “But you are banished.”

She nodded, and sniffed.  “I know I deserved it, but….  It is hard, at times like these.  At the time Ada passed the sentence, he warned me the pain would sink in, after a time…” Her lips trembled. “I miss my rooms at the Palace, sometimes, and I miss the trees…”

Bard got up and sat down on the arm of her chair and put his arm around her.  “I’m sorry, love.  You know your _Ada_ hates it, and he really misses you. They all do.”

She wiped a tear.  “It is selfish, really…”

 “No, Tauriel; it’s _not_ selfish, or silly!  We’re a family; and you’re an _important_ part of it.” He put his hand under her chin, and made her look at him.  “Let me tell you something else _;_ if Tilda _were_ dying, and you needed to say goodbye to your sister, I’d bring you to that Palace myself, and I wouldn’t allow _anyone_ to stop me!”

Tauriel stared up at him, in shock.  “You could not do that, Bard!”

“I absolutely would, and I’d dare anyone to stand in my way, even your _Ada!”_   Bard said, and he meant every word. “Look; I understand the Woodland Realm has laws, and I understand that _Ada_ must follow them whether he likes it or not, but, times are changing!  Elves are engaging with the wider world, and much of that is thanks to you!  Your actions helped to change your father, he and I could never have fallen in love, if it weren’t for you!  You showed Thranduil how wrong he was, and he _loves_ you for that!”

“It was wrong to raise a weapon to my King.”

“Yes. But you did that for _love;_  and it saved lives!  You saved my people; we would have died if Thranduil had left, don’t you see? You were both right; your _Ada_ was right to want to protect his people, but you also wanted to save lives."  He smiled at her. “Tauriel, I’d be willing to bet, after some time has passed, he’ll approach his Council, about a pardon for you.”

Tauriel looked at him curiously.  “Did _Ada…”_  

“Oh, no; nothing like that.  I just have a feeling your _Ada’s_ biding his time.  It’s a smart move, if you think about it.  Once his Council sees for themselves all the benefit your actions brought to the North, they’ll be open to a pardon; I’m sure of it.” Bard gave her a supportive look.  “Just be patient, love.  If it’s meant to happen, it will.”

“I’d like that very much.  My home is Dale now, and I have a place in Erebor, but I would like to go back with the children, occasionally."

“Let’s hope you get your wish.”  He pulled her to her feet, and kissed her brow.  “Now, get some rest; we’ve got a City to rebuild.”

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Gi melin, Bard_ – I love you, Bard

 _Ci uir nin_ – You are my forever

 _Bôr thalion ni_ _̂n_ – my steadfast hero

 _Hervenn nîn –_ My husband

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhian learns something interesting from Hannah, and it helps her gain perspective.
> 
> Ruvyn, one of Thranduil's personal guards, is very concerned about his friend Daeron, and offers him some advice.
> 
> Everyone in the Royal Chambers eagerly await the arrival of Uncle Percy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. The letters are back!

 

 

 

 

 

**The Woodland Realm, 28 th February; 2942, T.A.**

 

Rhian could hardly believe it; her son was two months old!

He was sleeping well for most of the night, and every time he laughed at her, she felt a thrill of happiness.   He was developing his unique personality, and to her great delight, he was a friendly, happy baby and loved to be held by everyone.

She was completely free of physical pain, for the first time in years.  No bruises, no broken bones, and no soreness. She was sleeping soundly, in between feedings, and she was gaining strength physically. 

Emotionally, she was having more and more good days, thanks to Hannah, who helped her talk about things, and Indis who helped keep her in a healthy routine. 

The constant wariness and fear, was slowly being replaced with life, and she was learning how to appreciate it.  She still had to work hard at trusting all of this, but she could feel the progress she was making.

She and Indis went for walks every day, with Darryn in a sling attached to her front.  At first, she dreaded leaving her apartment, and felt a heaviness in her chest and her stomach turn whenever she walked through the door way.  They started by just walking up and down the wide hallway of the Royal Wing, and it was extremely difficult.  The guards, and those who passed her didn’t speak to her make overt advances; they simply smiled and let her keep her distance, until she became more confident. 

When Hannah took her to the doors of the Dining Hall, and she surprised Sigrid by waving hello to her at her birthday party, it was a personal triumph, even though her knees were shaking the entire time.

“It will get easier, I promise.” Hannah kept saying to her.

These days, she walked farther away from her apartment, for longer periods of time.  Thranduil had graciously offered Rhian access to his Private Garden, so she could go outdoors without crowds or lots of noise.  It was surrounded by a high wall, and accessible through a door at the end of the hall, past the door to the King’s Chambers.  Yesterday, Sigrid watched the baby, and she and Indis put their coats on and walked for over an hour; the fresh air felt wonderful! 

Hannah had also been working with her to help get over her fear of being touched, and that was much easier.  Hannah kept urging her to take deep breaths and repeat “I’m safe” until her body learned to react differently to touch, and she was getting the hang of it.

She trusted Hannah, so when Rhian became used her touch, Indis began to touch her on the arm or around the shoulders for short periods of time, until she got used to it.  Sigrid, when she visited, began to sit close beside her and hold her hand for short periods of time, and now she could hug her with no butterflies in her stomach. 

Best of all, Old Ben came!  It seemed a miracle to not feel nervous when he hugged her so tight, but she had always felt safe with him.  It was the proudest moment of her life, when she introduced him to her baby, and even that was nothing compared to the little celebration in King Thranduil’s study, when he officially became her Da, and Darryn’s Grandda! 

Life was the best it had ever been for her, and she felt sure the uneasiness and depression were behind her for good. 

That doesn’t mean to say everything went smoothly.  Some mornings, she could hardly get out of bed, especially if she had a bad dream, and it would set her back.  Shortly after Ben left for Dale, she’d had a bad night; full of bad dreams and memories, and could hardly get out of bed the next day, she was frustrated and devastated. 

Hannah was sent for, but to her surprise, she didn’t take the setback very seriously.

“It’s like this, dear,” Hannah explained, as she took a piece of paper and a pencil and drew a spiral.  “It can feel like you’re going around in circles, where you feel like you’re doing wonderfully,” she indicated the top of the circle, “then you’ll have bad days,” she pointed to the bottom of a circle, “and you’ll have average days,” she indicated the right and left.  I know it sometimes seems like you’re getting nowhere, but, “and she showed her the entire spiral, “every time you make a cycle, you’re moving upwards, aren’t you?  And, see how the circles are really big at the bottom, which is how you were when we first started to talk?  You were really hurting, love, weren’t you?”

Rhian studied the diagram Hannah had drawn.  “At the top, the circles are smaller.”

“Yes, they are.  Can you think of what that could mean?”

The young girl thought.  “Maybe up here, even though I go through cycles, they won’t be as bad.”

The midwife smiled.  “Exactly!  And I’ll tell you another secret:  _Everyone_ is in the middle of a cycle somewhere.  Everyone!  We, all of us, have ups and down, and days on end where little happens.  So, you see, you aren’t so different than anyone else.  There’s not nearly as much wrong with you, as you think.”

Rhian sat back on the couch, and stared straight ahead, taking it all in.  “Really?”

“Really.  Now, can you think of a reason why I’m glad you’re going in cycles?”

She thought.  Then she picked up the pencil, and drew a thick line, back and forth at the bottom of the page, where the circles were bigger.  “I used to be sad and scared _all the time_ , and nothing else.”

“You were locked inside yourself, so you couldn’t feel anything.  It was how you survived.”

Then she pointed to what Hannah drew.  “Things seemed so… I don’t know… _big,_ and hard, even when I felt good, because I didn’t really know how to take it…  I can’t explain it.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job, love.  You shut down, love; you tried to keep everything flat, to protect yourself. Then you started feeling things again, and it was frightening, because you didn’t know if you could trust it, could you?  And your moods would change rapidly, because you weren’t used to it.  So, the more you go through these cycles, the good, the bad and the average, the better you’ll learn to handle it.

“It’s like when Sigrid’s brother Bain learns archery.  His arm doesn’t know how to get the arrow where he needs it to be, because his arms are weak, and they need to learn the movements.  He shoots over and over again, and his arm gets sore, just like your feelings get really sore, do you see?  But he keeps at it, and pretty soon, his arm stops hurting and he’s hitting a bullseye!”

Rhian smiled.  “I understand.” She grinned up at Hannah. “When you show me it like this, it doesn’t seem so scary anymore.”

Hannah put her arm around the girl.  “Of course, it doesn’t.  It helps, doesn’t it?  And I’ll tell you something else,” she pointed to all the upward spirals. “Do you remember when you told me two months ago, how you didn’t _‘know anything’_ in here?” Hannah pointed to her heart.

The young mother thought about their conversation right after she had given birth, in the Healing Halls.  “I said it was like I had ‘nothing for sure’ to get me through.”

“That’s what you said.  Well, I’ll tell you, love; every time you work through another cycle and move up, just a little bit, you’re learning about things; about yourself and about life.   And it teaches you things to _‘know’_ and keep in your heart.”

Rhian put both hands over her mouth, and considered all this.  Then, to Hannah’s surprise, she threw her arms around the midwife and said, “Thank you.  I think I could really get better!”

Hannah waited to be sure, then hugged the girl back.  “You are a lovely girl, and with a good, kind heart, and you deserve to be happy.  You’re also learning how strong you really are inside.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Well, I do!  You are a survivor, and you will overcome this; just be patient with yourself.  Others see the strength in you, too.”

“Really?”

“There are a lot of people who really care about you; especially your Da!”

Rhian smiled. “I never called my father that; but with Ben, it seems right and natural.  He always felt like my Da; now it’s official!”

“I couldn’t be happier for you, love.  Now, when you have bad day – and you _will_ have them - what are you going to try to do?”

“I’ll try to remember that it’s just part of the circle, and wait until I go back to the top again.”

“That’s my girl.”

 

***************

 

**The Woodland Realm, 3 rd of March, 2942, T.A.**

“Now, when you are grabbed from behind, around the shoulders like this; the best thing you can do, is simply drop.  You want to instantly bend your legs and lower your center of gravity, ladies.  Squirm, wiggle, throw your feet up in the air, if you have to!  It is much like how a cat behaves when thrown in water.  Do your best to be uncontrollable.  Now, we want you to practice in pairs, until the moves become a bit more familiar, then Ivran and I will take turns trying the move on you.  Ready?  Go!”

 

~o0o~

 

Ivran and Ruvyn had been teaching hand-to-hand combat with the women of Dale, for the past four weeks.  Both Elves were impressed; these women lacked skill and experience, yes, but they more than made up for it with sheer physical strength and steely determination.  These were women who had spent all their lives working hard, and, as Lord Bard had told them, weren’t afraid of hard work. 

The two Elven officers spent most of their time guarding the doors to King Thranduil’s chambers, and Ivran and Ruvyn enjoyed the job very much, especially since their King married Lord Bard.  They had great affection for him, especially since the night Thranduil brought him back to their rooms staggering drunk, on Dorwinian wine.  Lord Bard made their beloved King happy, and everyone was glad to see the smiles on his face and to hear his laughter once more in the Halls.  It was easy to love the Royal Family, and they felt it a privilege to help protect them. 

It has been a long-standing rule for any guard in the Royal Wing to _never_ speak of what goes on there.  No discussions amongst themselves was tolerated, either.  To be caught doing so, would be to break the confidentiality of their King, and was grounds for dismissal, possibly even treason.

For Ivran and Ruvyn, it was a matter of personal honor, more than obeying rules.  Theirs was a highly-coveted position, and neither would do anything to threaten that.  They especially enjoyed the lively activity of the children, and when called upon to escort them to school, or other lessons, they enjoyed the friendly chatter. 

When Captain Adamar was asking for volunteers to train the women from Dale in basic self-defense, they jumped at the chance, and worked their schedules around it. 

 

~o0o~

 

“Very good!  As we continue with the hand-to-hand training, you can see, it’s not always a matter of strength, it is a matter of speed, agility and skill.  _Anyone_ who tries to make you feel like you are helpless, is lying to you.  We saw how brave you women were, when you charged out of the Great Hall, during the Battle.  You helped your people, yes, but you also learned a great deal about yourselves, and I hope you never forget it.”  The women all smiled at Ruvyn, and nodded their thanks.

“Now, next week, we will begin working with wrist locks, and how to escape them.  That is all for today.”

The class was dismissed, and they watched the women talk excitedly among themselves as they exited the arena.  Daeron had entered, stepped aside politely and held the door, to allow them though.

When the women left, he walked over to his friend. “How did everything go?” he asked.  “They look happy.”

“They are eager to learn. I wonder if so many would have signed up, had their men been present, this winter.  It is not necessarily a terrible thing, that the women are here without them.  I can imagine more than one husband will be dismayed when they all return to Dale.”

Daeron shook his head.  “The race of Men is not used to women warriors, but these folks are much better about these things than in Gondor.  There will be a few men who object, but most will be glad of it.”

“Have you thought about teaching your friend, Rhian?” Ruvyn asked.  “I am aware she is nervous...”

Daeron gave him a warning look, but the Ruvyn seemed nonplussed.  “I know we have been ordered not to approach her unless there is desperate need, but she has shown significant improvement, which gladdens my heart, as I know it does yours.”

“We should not be speaking of this.”

“I understand the regulations about gossiping, my friend, so I will not say anything else, except to suggest that perhaps her self-confidence might improve a great deal, if she learned she is not helpless.”

Daeron looked at him intensely, then nodded.  “I will give it some thought.  I think my Aunt Indis should be the one to teach her.  I do not like the idea of her being manhandled by a male. It could cause a setback, even if it is just to instruct her.”

“Could you not do it?”

“No.” Daeron paused, and looked down for a moment. “I… am much too busy with my duties, working with Tilda, and teaching weaponry to the boys.  It would be better if Indis was her teacher.”

Ruvyn studied his friend thoughtfully, then he waved to Ivran, who was leaving to start his shift.  “Daeron?”

“What?” The Guard tried to look casual.

“How are you with Rhian?  Is anything amiss, there?”

“No!  We are friends.  She is making excellent progress and she was recently adopted by a cousin.  That has done much for her.”

“And the child?”

Ruvyn noticed the change in his demeanor, and the smile on his face.  “He is very healthy, and friendly.  I care about him deeply.”  Then Daeron’s eyes became a little sad.

Ruvyn sighed and shook his head.  “I know why you suffer, _Mellon nîn._   You should speak to King Thranduil, and soon.”

Daeron’s head snapped back to look into his eyes with alarm and embarrassment. 

Ruvyn stepped closer to his friend.  “It is well, _Mellon_ ; only those close to you can see your anguish,” he whispered.  “But, if you speak with Lord Thranduil, you may find it is not so hopeless.  He may surprise you.”

“Rhian is not ready for anything such as that.”

Ruvyn put his hand on Daeron’s arm.  “No, my friend, she is not.  But that does not mean all is lost.    I know you don’t want to hurt her, but I also do not want you to be hurt.  Things are changing, our King is married to a human!  If there is a way, Lord Thranduil will help you with this.  He cares about you; let him try to help.”

The Guard rubbed his forehead with worry, but they couldn’t continue the conversation, because the boy’s weaponry class just arrived.

“Your secret is safe with me; if you ever need to talk, I am here for you.” Ruvyn whispered.

Daeron nodded his head, then quickly turned and approach the crowd.  “Good afternoon, boys!”  and Ruvyn left the arena, but not before giving his childhood friend a look of compassion.

 

***************

 

**The Woodland Realm, 4 rd of March, 2942, T.A.**

 

“Is he here, yet?”  Sigrid asked anxiously, as she, Bain and Rhys hurried into Thranduil’s chambers for lunch. 

“I am sorry, but the wagons have not arrived, yet.”  Galion said, as he set the table.  “They should be here any moment.”

“Where’s _Ada?”_ Bain asked the Elf. 

“He has gone to the Main Doors, to greet your Uncle Percy and the rest of the visitors.  Your Auntie Hil is with him.  Now, please put your books away and wash your hands…”

Meriel wheeled Tilda out from the nursery.  “He’ll be here soon?” the little girl asked.

“Very soon, _hênig._ Have you washed up for lunch?”

“Yep, I’m all clean.”

“She did it all by herself, today.” Meriel smiled down at her. 

Sigrid came over and kissed her cheek.  “That’s wonderful, Til!”

“That’s great!” Rhys smiled at her.

Galion looked at all their anxious excited faces.  He was looking forward to seeing his friend, Percy, too.

Once their things were put away, and they washed, the children all sat down to lunch, but before anyone could eat, the door opened, and they could hear a mischievous voice call out:

“Where are those Sea Monsters, at?  Where are they?”

“UNCLE PERCY!”  Sigrid and Bain shot up out of their chairs like a shot, and pounced on the man, nearly knocking him down.  He held them close to him for several moments, and hugged them back.

“We missed you!” Bain said.

“And I missed you, too.  I hate how quiet it is, back home without all you kids.”  Percy ruffled Rhys’s hair.  “Hello there, son!  Your Da gave me a letter to give to you.”  He pulled the sealed envelope out of his pocket.”

“Thanks!  I’ll go and read it after lunch.”  Rhys put the letter in his pocket and smiled up at him.

“Please, Percy, sit and have something to eat; I’m sure you must be hungry.”  Thranduil urged him farther into the room, followed by Hilda, who was beaming.

“I will, but first…”  Percy walked around the table, and got down on one knee in front of Tilda.  “Hello, Little Bean.” He smiled at her, and kissed her hand.  “How do you feel?”

Tilda held out her arms and Uncle Percy picked her up and in his arms, hugging her tight.  “I was so worried about you, sweetheart.” He whispered. “I’m so glad you’re going to be all right.”  There were tears in his eyes, and his voice wavered. 

“I really missed you, Uncle Percy.”  Tilda said, as she laid her head on his shoulder and put her arms around him.  I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Oh, where else would I be?  Now that your Da’s back to work, Wild Wargs couldn’t keep me away, love.”

“Da told me I have to show you around, and help Auntie Hil keep you out of trouble.”

“Oh, I don’t know if _anyone_ can do that!”  Sigrid laughed.

“Well, I’ll need someone to keep an eye on me, while everyone’s at work; what do you say, Beanie, do you want to be my babysitter?”

“Yes!”  Tilda smiled.

Percy did eventually sit and eat, but he wouldn’t put Tilda back in her chair.  Instead, he ate his lunch with a petite little girl in his lap, and helped her with hers.

It was a wonderful afternoon.  The children skipped their afternoon lessons, so they could visit with him, but he insisted that Tilda keep up with her afternoon session in the pool.

“I promised your Da that you’d keep to your schedule, so I’ll peek in and see you swimming around like a fish, how’s that?”

“My swimsuit is pink!”

“I’ll bet you look cute.” He booped her nose.  “Now, you go with…Meriel, is it?”

“It is, Lord Percy, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Tilda has told me a great deal about you.”

He grinned down at Tilda slyly, “Well, don’t you believe a word of it; I’m really a nice man.”

“Uncle Percy!”  Tilda laughed. 

 

Later, Hilda came over to stand beside Percy and put her arm around his waist, and smiled up at him. “He’s a scoundrel, but I think I’ll keep him.”

“Will you have supper here, Uncle Percy?” Bain asked hopefully.

Galion looked on with a smile and he and Thranduil saw the look Percy and Hilda were giving each other.

“We have arranged for dinner to be brought to your rooms, Hilda.”  Thranduil told them.  “After such a long ride this morning, I am sure your husband could use a quiet meal and some rest, do you not think?” He added, hiding a smile.

“Come to think on it, he does look pretty tired…”  Hilda looked at her husband with a critical eye.

Percy winked at her.  “Yep.  I’m pooped.  Come on; I need an evening with my best girl.” 

After they left, and Galion went to see about dinner, Rhys went to read his letter from Alun, and Tilda moped. 

“Uncle Percy could have had dinner with us!”

Thranduil sat beside her on the couch and put his arm around her.  “You will understand when you are older.” He said, as he kissed the top of her head.

 

***************

 

**LETTERS TO THE WOODLAND REALM FROM DALE**

 

**From Bard to Thranduil:**

 

> _Hello, love;_
> 
> _Well; I’m here.  I can’t tell you how hard it was to leave you, Thranduil, and to tell you the truth, I hope, in time, that will get easier._
> 
> _I know how that sounds, and I know that’s not what you want to hear, but think about it: we are Kings, with Realms of our own, and neither of us should expect the other to neglect his duties.  We will be separated a lot of the time, and that’s just the way it’s going to be.  I have to find a way to deal with the sadness, or I can’t function, and I won’t let my personal problems affect my commitment to my people, and I’d never want that for you, either._
> 
> _I suppose I’ll get the hang of all these separations, eventually.  Our “No More Than Two Weeks” rule was a good idea.    Believe it or not, Thangon really helps.  He knocked me to the ground; he was so happy to see me!  He really makes me laugh, love._
> 
> _I sat down with Alun when I arrived and explained to him about his Mother and his Aunt.  I offered to let him go see Rhys to make sure he’s all right.  I offered to send him to check on his boy, and he gladly accepted.  He’ll be arriving with the wagons next week._
> 
> _We had originally thought to send him with Percy, but he decided, with Percy gone, he could wait; Rhys is all right, but as a father, I know he needs to check on his boy for himself, especially after the trauma of a death in the family, and this is affecting him a bit harder than he thought it would._
> 
> _I’ve urged him not to try and see Ina, just yet.  Even if he was up to it, I have to wonder if she is.  Regardless of how much of a monster Iola was, she’s still dealing with the separation and death of someone who’s been by her side all her life.  It was a toxic situation, but she’s feeling the loss keenly, and I doubt she’s up to much more, right now._
> 
> _Maybe I’m wrong about all this, though.  There’s no way to know, but if he asks, I want everyone to follow Írimë’s directive on this matter and that is the final word – now and in the future.  I would truly like to see a reunion of some kind, but she’s so fragile right now._
> 
> _I’ve met with Dáin, too.  He wanted a full and complete update on our Tilda, as well as the other children. I thanked him formally for the use of the Ravens, and discussed the possibility of continuing with this practice between our Realms._
> 
> _He also spoke about Tauriel’s week-long stay in Erebor.  I don’t know what she’ll say to you herself, but she took Tilda’s illness hard, so Percy sent a Raven to Dáin, and the King Under the Mountain himself came and made her go.  That’s all I can really say, but Dáin said the Dwarves from the Original Company took good care of her, and did their best to cheer her up._
> 
> _She misses you so much, love.  She misses all of you._
> 
> _Tell me; how is our Tilda?  I know they were about to start her in the bathing pool, and get her on her feet more. Please; tell me everything._
> 
> _Enjoy the time with Percy; I know Galion and the children will, but no one will be happier than Hilda.  She’s been stoic during their separation, but I know she misses him, and vice-versa._
> 
> _It as just as I feared; the nights are long, and I hate not being with you, but you’re right; I’ll see you in a week and a half, and it really helps._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Bard_
> 
> _P.S.  I just thought of something:  could you draw some pictures of our room, here, and of me and Thangon?  I think it might make Tilda less lonesome if she “sees” me at work in my study, and of Tauriel and all the others going about our daily lives here.  Maybe you can have someone bring a relative of Thangon’s to our Chambers, so Tilda could be reminded of the kind of dog I have._

_***_

 

**From Bard to Bain:**

 

> _Hello son,_
> 
> _I’m sorry I didn’t get to spend as much time as I would like, when I was there.  Life won’t always be this tumultuous, and Tilda needed me.  But never, ever think you and Sigrid aren’t every bit as important to me._
> 
> _I’m so incredibly proud of you, Bain, for looking out for your sisters, and looking out for Rhys when his Aunt died.  You’re a good friend, and I’m happy to see you two get along so well.  Thranduil thinks, if things continue like this, Rhys will be a wonderful asset to you, when the time comes for you to be King.  You’ll need people around you that you absolutely trust to tell you the truth; even when you don’t want to hear it._
> 
> _Keep up with your studies and our practice, and be as much help as you can to Ada and Galion._
> 
> _Have fun with Uncle Percy!_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Your Da_

_***_

**From Bard to Sigrid:**

 

> _Hello, My Dear Girl!_
> 
> _It was so wonderful to see you, and like I told your brother, I hated that I couldn’t spend much time with you.  Are you looking after yourself, and making sure to have fun with your friends?  I couldn’t be prouder of you for always looking for ways to help; and Ada is, too, but we both want you to make time to be a young girl!_
> 
> _I heard you’re going to be starting self-defense lessons with Ruvyn and Ivran, and I’m pleased.  It will do your Old Da good to know his girl is that much safer!_
> 
> _How are things in the Healing Hall?  Has Dior been released yet?_
> 
> _Please take care of yourself, and make sure to give your Ada lots of hugs, because he hates it when we’re apart.  I’m counting on you guys to keep him busy and make sure he smiles._
> 
> _I love you so much, my girl; no father could ask for a better daughter than you._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Your Da_

_***_

 

**From Bard to Tilda:**

 

> _Hey, Little Bean,_
> 
> _So, how have you been doing?  Do you like the bathing outfit the Elves made for you?  I hope the water will help you get your exercises done and all the pictures your Ada made for you are fun to play with._
> 
> _You’ll laugh to hear that when I first went into the Great Hall, Thangon was so excited to see me, he knocked me down and began to wash my face!  I’m so anxious for you to meet him, and I know he and Esta will be very good friends, when you can come back._
> 
> _Have you been coloring the pictures of Dale Ada made for you?  It’s fun to think of how our home will look, when it’s all done, won’t it.  I’ll ask Ada to draw a picture for you of our corridor, so you can think of me being there, working to get Dale ready for all of you._
> 
> _I know writing is a bit tricky right at the moment, so if you want to have Sigrid or Ada write for you, I’d LOVE to hear from you, Beanie.  I want to know how you are feeling and all the things you are doing – ESPECIALLY all the fun you’re having with Uncle Percy!_
> 
> _Remember what I said:  you take him all over the place, so he can see Ada’s wonderful Palace!_
> 
> _I love you so much, sweetheart, and I will see you in twelve days!_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Your Da_

_***_

**From Bard to Hilda:**

 

> _Dear Hilda:_
> 
> _I’ll keep this short, because I know you’ll want to spend every moment you can with Percy.  I know how much you’ve missed him, but let me tell you, it can’t compare with how much he’s missed his best girl.  You should have seen him the morning the wagons left!  He was as giddy as a young lad._
> 
> _I’ll never be able to thank you two enough for all the work you’re doing to bring Dale back, and for looking after me and our children.  Eru himself brought you and Pers into my life, and I thank him every single day._
> 
> _If you have time, I’d like an update as how the orphans are all doing, now that they’ve settled into their homes, and I’d like you, Thranduil, and Írimë to sit down in his study and prepare a report of her progress, but this needs to be kept private._
> 
> _At this point, I’m discouraging visits between Alun and Ian, when he comes.  However ready he might be, the woman is not well, and it could do more harm than good._
> 
> _Now, take this week, and enjoy your time with your husband.  You and he need each other, and we need you both._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Bard_

***

**To Rhys from Alun:**

 

> _Hello, son;_
> 
> _I’m sorry to hear of your experience with your Aunt.  I know you’re fine; Lord Bard and King Thranduil promise me you’re doing well, but humor your old Da, will you?  I need to see you for myself._
> 
> _King Thranduil has written me and told me of your good behavior and I couldn’t be prouder of my boy!  He told me that you were very brave to answer Lord Bard’s questions, and you’re doing well at school and what a help you’ve been to the children, when Princess Tilda got so sick.  He tells me how much they all enjoy having you with them, and what a good friend you’ve been to Bain._
> 
> _Lord Bard told me about their questions about your grandmother and your aunt, and I’m proud of you for wanting to help, but if you ever feel bad about any of that, I want you to make sure you tell King Thranduil right away.  He will help you._
> 
> _I’ll see you in a week, son._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Your Da_

_***_

 

**To Sigrid, Bain and Tilda, from Tauriel:**

 

> _Suilad, children,_
> 
> _My heart sings to hear that you’re all doing well!  I know it was hard for your Da to leave you, but he has been very busy catching up on work here._
> 
> _While he was there in the Palace, I went to Erebor and spent a week with my friends there.   I spent much time sparring with Dwalin, if you can believe it, and we have learned much from each other._
> 
> _Bain and Rhys, Ada and Bard tell me what good friends you two are, and I am glad to hear it.  Legolas was my best friend my entire life, and I would never have accomplished as much as I have, without his support and encouragement._
> 
> _Sigrid, I also hear that you and Rhian have become excellent friends.  I look forward to spending more time with her and baby Darryn, when you all come back.  Old Ben talks about them continually, ever since he got back here, and everyone is pleased for all of them._
> 
> _Tilda, I also hear you’ve been doing some swimming in the pool!  That is excellent.  The water will help you get strong, and the warm water will soothe your muscles.  Your Da tells me how much you like Meriel, and you named your new doll after her!  I have known her for a long time, and I, too, think she is very nice, and certainly worthy of such a great honor!_
> 
> _Besides arranging the schedule for your father’s guards, I spend a great deal of time sparring and practicing archery with Bard, and help the construction crews with the building.  I find that I enjoy it very much; especially working on the rooftops.  Dale is beginning to look like a beautiful city, and you all will be pleased, when late spring comes._
> 
> _Please, look after yourselves, and Ada.  I miss you all, more than you can you know.  I am counting the days, until we are reunited again._
> 
> _Cuio vae a no veren,_
> 
> _Tauriel, your Gwathel_

***

 

**To Rhian, from Old Ben:**

 

> _To my daughter and grandson,_
> 
> _I had a wonderful time on my visit, and everyone here has been congratulating me on my new family.  When I arrived in Dale, Bard led a toast, and everyone shook my hand to congratulate me._
> 
> _It’s a wonderful thing, my dear.  When you and that boy of yours return to Dale, you’ll have a safe home and can put all that unpleasantness behind you and start a new life!  You’ve been doing so well with your lessons, and Hilda told me you’re taking to your schooling like a genius.  She’s real pleased about it, and says you’ve got a knack for organization._
> 
> _Building here is going well.  We’ve finished the marketplace, and about two-thirds of the homes we planned for. We’re also working on the Healing Hall and we’ll build the school over the summer months.  King Dáin will be delivering stone within the next several weeks to begin to rebuild the towers soon.  The Walls and ramparts have been completely repaired, much to everyone’s relief._
> 
> _Please keep taking care of your lovely self, and that beautiful boy of yours, until we can be together again._
> 
> _Your loving Da_

_***_

 

**To Thranduil from Tauriel:**

 

> _Gi suilannon, Ada,_
> 
> _As you know, Bard came back to us safely, and no one was happier to see him than Thangon, who gave us quite a display of his affection for him, when he first arrived._
> 
> _I spent a very nice week in Erebor and King Dáin was very considerate.  General Dwalin was a worthy opponent in the sparring arena and I even spent some time with Oin in the infirmary there, as we discussed herbs and remedies.  He told me he had been very impressed with Kili’s healing at Bard’s house, and we had quite the discussion about the different uses for Athelas, or Kingsfoil, as they call it.  It is hard to believe that it is thought of as a weed in many places._
> 
> _I am so happy to hear Tilda’s getting better, and how well the children are getting along.  I miss them more than I ever thought possible, and it broke my heart when our Tithen Pen became so ill. It is hard to be so far away, and I am feeling the separation keenly._
> 
> _You were right, Ada, when you said that I would feel the pain of my sentence keenly, after some time has passed.  I think about the trees I miss, and all my friends in the Palace.  I can understand if many of them, and my former colleagues think less of me, after what I did during the Battle, but I miss them nonetheless._
> 
> _Feren has been very respectful, and that is a comfort.  I know he was angry and felt I had betrayed you all, but I think he understands now, and I am grateful to continue our friendship.  I do feel like I belong in Dale, so please do not feel guilty.  You did the right thing, Ada, and if you had not done something I would have insisted on a self-imposed punishment which would have been much more severe._
> 
> _But, even more than sorrow for what I have lost, I feel gratitude.  I have your love and open affection, and that is a treasure beyond price.  I also have a new family in Bard, the children, Percy and Hilda.  Besides difficult moments, which we both knew would happen, I have much to be grateful for._
> 
> _Every day that passes, brings us closer to the day of your return, and I look forward to seeing you soon._
> 
> _Cuio vae a galu,_
> 
> _Tauriel_

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Cuio vae, a no vero –_ Farewell, and enjoy yourselves

 _Tauriel, Gwathel -_ Tauriel, Your Sworn Sister

 _Gi suilannon, Ada_ – I give you greetings, Ada

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daeron finally musters the courage to have a frank discussion with his King. Thranduil spends much of the day with his nose in books and scrolls, trying to find a way to help his friend.
> 
> Bard comes for a short visit, and there is a wonderful surprise waiting for him.

 

 

****

 

**The Woodland Realm; 10 th of March, 2942, T.A.**

 

Daeron closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.

 _“Neledho!”_     He heard Thranduil say, then he smiled at the Guard, when he entered the room.

“Good morning, Daeron.  Please, close the door and sit down.”  Thranduil got up and closed the door between his and Galion’s study, “Now, you requested to speak with me privately?  Is there something wrong?  Are the children all right?”

“They are fine, Sire.  Another guard is with them at the school.”  Daeron looked a bit nervous.

“Is it something to do with Tilda?  You said nothing after you examined her yesterday; I took that to mean she is progressing.”

Daeron was quick to reassure him, “I did not find anything amiss.  She is doing wonderfully.  I know it can be distressing to see her in her wheelchair, but the mobility is doing much to lift her mood.”

“She enjoyed her trips around the Palace with Lord Percy, and you are correct - the freedom has done just as much good for her as all her rest and exercises.  Speaking of that, does she enjoy the bars we set up in her room?”  Four days ago, Daeron designed a set of parallel bars to be adjusted to her small stature, to encourage her to walk.

“She was frustrated at first; it is hard to relearn a movement one takes for granted.  We remind her that we need to teach her brain to tell her legs what to do again.”

“What progress has she made with this?"

Daeron smiled.  “I am not permitted to tell you, My Lord.  Lady Tilda has sworn me to secrecy, so that she may surprise you and Lord Bard when he arrives."

Thranduil smiled. “This is wonderful news, and a surprise I eagerly look forward to.  If you require any more equipment built, you have my permission to proceed.  We can set up one of the empty suites near the end of the hall for this.”

 “Thank you, My Lord.”

Thranduil grew thoughtful for a few minutes.  “I am determined to accept my child in whatever capacity she has been given back to us, but until I know for certain that it will not be a complete recovery, I will settle for nothing less.”

“I wish for the same, and I will do my best to make that happen.”

“How are Sigrid and Bain?  Do you see any signs of distress, or unhappiness, now that their father has returned to Dale?”

“Of course, they miss their father, My Lord, but it did them a world of good when Lord Bard came.  Sigrid seems determined to be strong, like always.  She does have moments of melancholy, but I see her shake herself out of it, and occupy herself with something else.”

The Elvenking smiled.  “That is our Sigrid.  I will make time to speak with her, in case she needs to talk.   What about Bain?”

“Bain, I believe, is working out his distress with physical activity.  This is a good outlet, plus, I think he confides in Rhys quite a bit, and that friendship is helping them both.  It will be good for Rhys to see his father again, tomorrow.”

“Oh?”  Thranduil put his elbows on his desk.  “Has he said anything?”

“Not overtly.  The other children do not press him for information about his family so much anymore, but I believe he’s been affected by the incident more than he wants to let on.  I think Bain sees it too.  I have asked Rhys if he needed to talk, and he just says that we should be worried about Tilda, not him.” 

“Those two boys remind me of Commander Feren and myself, when were young.  I see great things for them, if their friendship continues.  You have the same type of companionship with your cousin, Turamarth.”

“I do, and I am very fortunate.”

Thranduil laughed.  “I did not think _anyone_ could cause more trouble than Feren and me, but you and your cousin disproved that theory.  The Palace still bears evidence of that.”

“I must admit, setting the kitchens on fire was a spectacular stunt.  I was sure I could follow my mother’s recipe for raspberry tarts.  It looked so simple, when she did it.”

“Did Idril ever forgive you for the scorch marks on the ceiling?”

“Not really.  She brings it up, when she wants me to feel guilty about something.”  Daeron gave a wry smile.  “My aunt does the same with Turamarth.”

“Mothers of all races do that, I am afraid.”  Thranduil chuckled.  “My _Naneth_ learned to brace herself, whenever Galion approached her with reports of our latest misadventure.  King Oropher was more amused than anything.  He and Galion grew up together, as well, and they caused their own share of trouble back in Doriath.”  Thranduil laughed.  “Your father, Adamar, was not a well-behaved elfling, either.”

“I feel very blessed to have my parents.”  Daeron mused.  Then, he realized what he said, and felt guilty.  “I am sorry, My Lord.  I did not mean to –“

Thranduil raised his hand, to stop his line of thinking.  “It is fine.  I have every confidence that my parents are in Valinor waiting for me, and they are happy there.  You take pleasure in your family, and that is never something to feel guilty about.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

Thranduil noticed the Guard looking uncomfortable.

“I have enjoyed reminiscing, and to hear how the children are doing, but I do not think that is the real reason you wanted to see me, _Mellon nîn.”_

“It is a…  personal matter, My Lord, and I need your guidance, in this matter, as it involves someone under your care.”

“Has something happened?”

“Not exactly, but I do not wish to hurt anyone…”

Thranduil leaned back in his chair.  He’d been expecting this.  “What is it?”

“It is Rhian, My Lord.  I am glad I was able to help her…”

“Daeron, you saved her life, and the life of the infant.  That goes far beyond ‘helping.”

“Thank you, My Lord; I appreciate your confidence.” The Elf looked downward.

“Is Rhian well?”

“She is doing very well, overall.  She was overjoyed at the adoption, and I see a gifted young woman emerge from the depths of all her suffering.”

“I have noticed this, as well.  I am very happy for her.”  Thranduil tilted his head.  “Why then, do you still look concerned?”

“It is nothing Rhian is doing…  It is just that…  something has developed, I think, and I do not know what to do about it.  It is a personal matter, and I would like your advice.  Rhian is under your personal protection, and I want to…”  Daeron was at a loss for words.

“She is also under Ben of Dale’s.” Thranduil reminded him.  “But, you are correct, my duty to her will not stop until she returns to her home in the spring.”

“Lord Ben is a good man, and I am glad she will have a protector.”

“Is this dilemma regarding something you have done, or not done?”  Thranduil was concerned.  “Has something happened to cause a problem between the two of you?”

“Maybe…”  Daeron looked at him in alarm. “There is a problem, but I assure you, she is blameless, and she is unaware of any of it; it is me, and I cannot cause her hurt.”

Thranduil steepled his hands on the desk.  “I do not for one moment believe you would knowingly or willfully hurt that girl.”  He already had an idea of what Daeron wanted to say, but wanted to see how the Guard would handle it.   “Whatever is concerning you, Daeron, please have faith in me as not only your King, but as your friend.  I do not doubt you.  But, please, you must tell me what this is, so I can try to help you.”

Daeron took a deep breath, and began:

“Rhian sees me only as a friend, My Lord.  This is exactly how she _should_ see me, and _no more._   Especially not now.  I am sure Mistress Hannah is watching us both for any sign of…irregularity, as she should, My Lord!  I would never hurt Rhian.”

“Daeron?  Do you care for the girl?”

The Guard swallowed.  “I tried not to dwell on it, because I can do nothing about it.  My regard for her has turned into affection, and I think it might be beyond that.” Daeron admitted, looking confused.

“Can you describe your feelings?”  Thranduil probed, gently.

“When I first saw her, she was in a great deal of pain, and she was frightened and vulnerable.  Who would not want to help her?   I thought my concern was only from a Healer’s point of view - she reminded me of that woman in Dale who was murdered by her husband, and the baby girl.  Do you recall, My Lord, when Girion had the man executed?”

“Yes, I do.  I also remember you took the woman’s death hard, but we were concerned over the despair you felt over the loss of her unborn infant.”

“Yes.”  Daeron’s voice trailed off.  “I did mourn; a life, a _fëa,_ died, before she ever had a chance to ever live.  It shook my faith, in a lot of things.”

Thranduil could understand that.  “That happens to all of us, at one time or another.”  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs.  “Perhaps that is why you were drawn to Rhian.  You saw her in the same situation, and it touched you.  You lost the other patient and her child, and did not want to see it happen again.”

“I know you are correct.  Perhaps I was looking to right some sort of wrong.  I saw the signs, especially of rape in Rhian, and it was upsetting to be sure.  When I met her father, Phylip I saw that he had no real love or concern for her.  He treated her like a lowly servant.  It made me angry, and I _knew_ I had to help her.”

“Daeron, your role in her life, has been a friend, but also a savior.  There is nothing wrong with that; she needed help desperately, and you _did_ save her, and the child.  It is natural to feel good about oneself when genuinely making a difference in a person’s life.  It can be a heady feeling, but you mustn’t take that seriously.”

The Guard nodded, “I agree, My Lord, but... I believe my feelings are much deeper than that, and I am confused.  I do not understand how this could be!”

“When you were here, last week, for the adoption ceremony, I did notice your careful demeanor toward her.  No,” he wanted to reassure the Guard, “you were not overt in your feelings, nor were you in your caution.  I could sense it, but I assure you; no one else did.”

“But I did not mean for this to happen…”  Daeron put his face in his hands.  “I cannot be thinking of such things.”

“Can you tell me why not?” Thranduil asked him.  He didn’t disagree with the Elf, but he wanted to know what he thought about it, before rendering his judgement.

“This is _not_ the time to explore those feelings!” The Elf became agitated.  “Even if I _did_ understand how it could be thus, I cannot allow myself to go that far, My Lord.  She is _not_ strong enough!  She has much to overcome before she feels whole again, if that’s even possible.”

“Rhian grows stronger every day.”  Thranduil laced his fingers together in his lap. "Her true self is beginning to emerge, and I foresee she will grow into strong confident woman, under the right circumstances."

Daeron considered this for a moment or two, then said, “She is better, and she’s learning how to be happy, but I want her to do this for _herself_ and her son.  As much as I want to help her, I cannot allow her to use _me_ as a motivation to get better.  I _cannot_ be her ultimate goal, My Lord, or she will get so caught up in a romantic ideal, that she will hide in _that,_ rather than face the struggles ahead.  She’s just not ready to be thinking of anything but learning how to be herself.”  The Guard looked stricken.  “I could hurt her, without meaning to, and I would never forgive myself.”

“Do you think she is developing romantic feelings for you?”

“No, I do not.  And I am glad of it.  But, My Lord, even if she were ready for such a thing, she is a human, and I am an Elf!  How can this even be?  What would happen to me, or her, if we joined in marriage?"

The Elvenking nodded.  “I understand your concerns.   As far as an Elf falling in love with someone of another race,” he smiled, “might I remind you of my own recent marriage, and the situation between Tauriel and the Dwarf Prince?  It is not so farfetched.  It _can_ happen, Daeron, so do not be concerned with that, but timing of all this, could make things complicated.”

The Elven Guard put his face in his hands.  “I feel terrible about this.  Suppose we do end up together, and then she dies, as the race of Men do?  If I have to give up my Immortality, or if I fade when she dies, this affects my commitment to Lord Bard, and both Kingdoms.  I do not want to jeopardize anyone’s safety, or walk away from my duties...  This is why I came to you.”

Daeron’s eyes filled, and his voice wavered.  “You and Lord Bard were given a special gift from the Valar and only _they_ know all the purposes behind it.  I do not question that, nor do I possess the arrogance to believe I am entitled to the same privilege.  I feel….”  The Guard swallowed, and his voice shook.  “I felt _something,_ the very first moment, when I put my hand on her wrist, to help her carry the buckets of water.  It felt… familiar somehow, like I had know her before. I do not understand it, and I am afraid to face it.  Even if she had not been brutalized, it has only been a matter of months since her husband passed; it is much too soon."

“Daeron.  Look at me.”  Thranduil said, and after a few seconds, troubled green eyes turned to him.  Thranduil got up, and came around the desk to sit beside him.  He put a reassuring hand on Daeron’s shoulder, and said, “You are wise to consider these things, my friend, and your concern speaks to your honor and your quality.  This is why I would trust no other with the personal safety of my husband, or our children. 

“At this point, let us not be concerned with the differences within our races.  The most important factor is this:  Rhian is slowly coming into her own, but you are correct in that she needs more time.  She barely knows what life is, or even _who_ she is.  She has been too busy trying to survive her wretched life, to grow and mature.  Although she is three years younger, in many ways, Lady Sigrid is older, because she was allowed the room and safety to grow and develop.”

Daeron nodded his agreement.  “Rhian is happier, but she still lacks a great deal of confidence in herself, and only time and care can help with that.”  He looked at Thranduil intensely.  “My Lord, have _you_ observed any change, in her demeanor toward me?”

“No, I have not, and if Hannah noticed anything, she would come to me right away, so please; do not worry.” At Daeron’s alarmed look, he quickly added.  “The midwife holds you in high regard, but it is her job to watch out for impediments to her patient’s progress.  Has your Aunt Indis spoken to you about it?"

“I think Indis might suspect my feelings; she has known me since I was born, but I have been very careful."

"What about your parents?  Surely they have noticed your melancholy."

"I have spoken frankly with them, and they agreed I should seek your advice."  

"They have no concerns that Rhian is human?"

"My parents are worried for me, but they like Rhian and Darryn very much, and are determined to support my choice, if I am able to make it."

“That does not surprise me, but I am pleased to hear it, nonetheless.  Daeron, should it come to pass that Rhian chooses you, and you are required to accept the gift of Men, I would never expect you to refuse love and a lifetime of happiness, because of duty or obligation.  We will find a way to make it all work, I promise you.  For now, I advise this: Do not avoid her outright.  She could see it as a rejection, and could cause harm to her confidence.  Do _absolutely nothing_ that could be interpreted as a romantic advance.  Are you able to discipline yourself to do this?”  Thranduil studied him carefully. 

“I can, My Lord.  I will."  The Guard sat up straight. 

“When you visit Rhian, make sure Indis or Hannah is always present, and keep any conversation light and friendly.  Keep your visits brief, and limit them to no more than once a week.  They already know you are busy working with Tilda, so keep using that excuse."

The Guard looked terrified.  “Must I tell Mistress Hannah of my feelings?” 

Thranduil thought this over for a moment.  “If your words or actions give no evidence of your feelings, I do not believe we need alert Hannah.  If you find you cannot contain them, then you must come and see me, right away, and we will consider alternatives, such as a temporary assignment elsewhere, to give you both some time.”

“What if Mistress Hannah notices my regard for her?”

“Then she would speak with me, and we would deal with it the same way.  As long as her patient is unaffected, I think you are entitled to some privacy.”  He gave his friend a reassuring smile.  “You have done _nothing_ wrong, _Mellon ni_ _n._   Nothing.  I am not angry or upset with you; please be at peace.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

“Daeron,” Thranduil said, gently, “she may _never_ return your feelings, and go on to marry another.  Have you considered that?”

The Guard swallowed, and looked down at his hands.  “I have,” he said, very quietly.  “I think about it all the time.”  

Thranduil was concerned for his Guard.  “ I wish I could ease you, but all will be revealed in the fullness of time, _Mellon nîn._   For now, we wait, and in the meantime, I will try and find some answers for you.  Whatever happens, Daeron, I will help you, as much as possible.  You will not face this alone.”

Daeron nodded, wiped his eyes.  “Thank you, My Lord.” He said, with a rough voice.

“No thanks are needed.  I was in your shoes, at one time, and I know how agonizing it can be.”

The Guard looked at him with wide eyes.  “You do?”

“Oh, yes.  When I first saw my wife in Rivendell, I fell in love with her instantly, but she did not return my feelings at all, and I had no idea whether she ever would.  It was a terrible time.”

“May I ask what happened?”

“I wrote her, and she was…less than impressed.   I visited Lord Elrond’s home several times over the next several years, and my feelings only grew stronger, yet she put me off, and showed no interest." He laughed. "She did not like me very much, at first.  If she had rejected me and married another, I would not have taken any wife.”

“But, she did marry you.”  Daeron said, hopefully.

“Yes, thank the Stars.  But that was only after I learned how to share the deepest parts of myself with her.  The War of the Last Alliance was not an easy thing to recover from, so it took a tremendous effort for me to be open.  In this,” he smiled at the Guard, “you have an enormous advantage.  You have never, to my recollection struggled with such things as grief," he grinned, "or shyness.”

“But that still does not mean Rhian will grow to love me.”

“I am afraid there is no guarantee with matters of the heart.  We all fall victim to that beautiful agony, at one time or another.  Sometimes it works out, and sometimes it simply does not.  All we can do is wait.  In the meantime, your secret is safe with me, and if you need to talk again, I am here.”

Daeron nodded, then stood up with a sigh.  “Thank you, My Lord.  You have helped a great deal.”

“Take the day off.  You have been working very hard, and I think you need some time to yourself; that is an order, Lieutenant.”  Thranduil told him, with a sympathetic smile.  “I am also going to send you to Dale, with Lord Bard, and you are to spend two weeks there.  You will accompany him when he returns."

“But what about Lady Tilda?"

“She is doing well, as you say.  Meriel is an excellent Healer, and I also have Elénaril at my disposal.  I can have Ivran or Ruvyn take over your duties with the children and your classes for the boys."

”I do not wish to shirk my duties -“

Thranduil gave him a concerned look. "You need some time away, Daeron, so go spend some time with your cousin.  Whether or not you choose to confide in him, the change of scenery will do you good."

The Guard saluted.  “Thank you, My Lord.”

 

Daeron walked through the Halls in a daze.  He did feel a little better, after speaking frankly with the King, and he had no real reason to despair, just yet.  The King’s advice was sound, and his promise to help meant a great deal.

But when he sat in the King’s office, to speak openly for the first time, about his affection for Rhian, he knew his fate was sealed, for good or for ill. 

With every word out of his mouth, he understood, that he was deeply in love with this beautiful girl from Laketown, and he had been, since that first moment he felt her _fëa._   There was a strong reaction in him, and he was truthful with Lord Thranduil, when he did sense something familiar about her. 

He loved Rhian with all his heart, and he knew it, now, and would until the day Arda ceased to be.  He loved her more than he ever thought possible, and it was agony.

And he had no idea whether Rhian would or even could, love him back. 

As these thoughts came to him, his steps became purposeful, and he fetched his cloak and made for the stables and saddled his horse.  As he galloped through the paths in the forest, he prayed to the Valar for strength and understanding, to help him endure this agony and fear.

Finally, he stopped at his favorite place, where the trees were particular friends of his.  Most of them were sleeping for the winter, but he stepped over to the biggest one and placed his hands on its bark, and began to sing to it.   Then he began to climb, nearly to the top.

After he settled himself on a heavy limb, he leaned his back against the trunk and sighed, as he prayed, “Please, if there is no purpose to this, take this from me.  I do not know if I can bear it.”  He asked the Elbereth, Queen of the Stars, and Yavanna, Queen of the Trees and the Forest, for help and strength, for wherever this road took him.

 

***************

 

Thranduil sat quietly, and pondered the situation for a long while.

He wanted very much to help Daeron, and he needed to understand what could be done.  It seemed cruel:  after spending his entire life serving his King and the Woodland Realm so well, the young Guard’s reward might be an endless life of pain and loneliness!

As grateful as he was for the Valar’s gift for him and Bard, he believed the reward for facing down a creature of Morgoth was more a matter of fate, than courage!  Their fortitude was borne of necessity and urgency, not an extraordinary amount of bravery!  

Daeron _was every bit_ as courageous and every bit as willing to sacrifice himself for those he loved.  Countless people in his Realm were equally brave.  It didn’t seem fair for him to be awarded such a precious gift, and his people still be constricted to the same rules as before.    

He will always be grateful to have Bard, of course, but was it so wrong to want the same chances for the people they both care about so much?

And yet, even if he _could_ find a way for his friend to marry Rhian, that didn’t mean it would work out that way.

At this time, Rhian didn’t feel anything for Daeron besides gratitude and friendship.  There was a chance his love (and the Guard was _very_ _much_ in love) would never be returned, and he would endure a lifetime of pain, and for an Elf that is a serious problem. 

Daeron could weaken physically, and lose his will to live. He could fade.

Once again, he came back to the night of the funeral services here, and his renewed conviction that that the blessing from Eärendil meant something important.

It was true he’d have wait until spring to contact Elrond, but perhaps he could find some answers here, in his own library.  There might be a precedent somewhere hidden in the history books. 

Bain and Sigrid’s classes were scheduled in the Library today, so could go there and disrupt them, so he wrote a list for Galion, drummed his fingers on his desk and waited for them.

After Galion returned with stack of books and several scrolls under his arm, he spread them out on his big desk, and got to work.

Of course, the most famous “mixed marriage” was that of Beren and Luthien, and he knew all about it.  He set that book aside, for now.

More hopeful was the story of Tuor and Idril, Eärendil’s parents.  

> _“Tuor (born F.A. 472) was a hero of the Edain from the House of Hador, and the father of Eärendil. In spite of being a Man, he was chosen by the Vala Ulmo to be the last hope of the Noldor in the face of annihilation by the forces of Morgoth._
> 
> _He passed his youth a refugee and an outlaw, before being guided by the Vala Ulmo to the hidden city of Gondolin. There he rose high in the favour of the High King Turgon and wedded the elf-maiden Idril, the King's daughter. Escaping the fall of Gondolin, he and his family came to the Mouths of Sirion. After abiding there long enough to see Eärendil to manhood Tuor finally succumbed to his sea-longing and, with Idril, departed Middle-earth for the West. The tradition of the Noldor was that he became the only Man to be accepted as one of the elder kindred and will share with them an immortal life in Valinor as long as Arda will endure.”_

Bard’s fate resembles Tuor’s, in that he married and Elf, and will be permitted in Valinor, when they sail.  So, this was a very good start:  a man and Elf fell in love, and they shared the same fate, and Tuor now lived in Valinor, although he did not agree that he was the only man there.

He remembered the story of Amandil, the father of Elendil, the first King of Gondor. 

Amandil was on the Council of Ar-Pharazôn the Golden, the last King of Númenor, who was seduced by Annatar (Sauron, in disguise) into thinking he could demand entrance to Aman.  

It was this man who gathered those of the Númenoreans who still remained faithful to Eru and sent them with Elendil to Middle Earth, while he and three servants sailed West to try to warn those in Valinor of the coming attack.  It is said that they were never seen or heard from again, but Thranduil refused to believe that Amandil was destroyed for wanting to help those in Valinor.  Thranduil could understand the Valar wanting to give those living in Middle Earth the impression that they were killed for trying to enter.  To do anything else would to encourage the race of Men to attempt the journey.  He fully expected to see him, when he and Bard arrived on those White Shores.  

Thranduil found the story he had been thinking about in the third book.

There it was: the story of Andreth, a human woman, from the house of Bëor, and Aegnor, son of Finarfin, brother of King Finrod.   He saw her reflection in a stream, and fell deeply in love with her, and she with him, but it was wartime, and he couldn’t declare his intentions to her, because he had to leave. 

Later, in the year 409, F. A., Andreth had a long debate with Fingon over the nature of Elves and Men, and their different final fates.  It was Finrod’s assertion that any intermarriage between the two races end in heartbreak and tragedy.  Sometime later, both Elves were killed in battle, and Andreth remained alone for the rest of her days. 

But there was something interesting at the end of the debate: 

> _“Before he left, he took her hand, and she asked him where he was going. He explained that he had to return to the Siege; she asked him to tell Aegnor to be careful. He said he would tell him, but he may as well tell her not to weep. For Aegnor was a warrior, with a spirit of wrath, and with every stroke he dealt in battle, he saw the Enemy that hurt Andreth's people long ago. His last words to her were that she was not for Arda, and wherever she goes, beyond the world, may she find light and "'await us there, my brother - and me.'"_

That wasn’t entirely helpful, since the couple _may_ be reunited, but only after Arda meets its end which will be eons in the future.  He needed something for Daeron _now._

Aegnor and Finrod were the Lady Galadriel’s brothers, so she could provide more information.  The problem was, she was still recovering from her confrontation with Sauron at Dol Goldur.  Still, he could send a letter to her husband and his cousin, Lord Celeborn, to see if he has anything to add.  Lothlórien is close enough to the Woodland Realm for him to observe Eärendil’s blessing, just as he did!

In doing further research, he found and unexpected reference to yet another Elven-Human Marriage: the story of Imrazôr and Mithrellas.  These events occurred in the Third Age, which was even more helpful: 

> _“Mithrellas was a Silvan Elf who, according the tradition of the House of Angelimir, accompanied Nimrodel from Lothlórien on her journey to the southern havens. Mithrellas, it is said, became lost in the woods of Dor-en-Ernil, where she was found by Imrazôr the Númenórean, who married her. So Elvish blood entered the line of the Princes of Dol Amroth, it was claimed, and her son Galador became the first of the long line of Princes. Mithrellas also bore Imrazôr a daughter, Gilmith.  After the birth, she ran away at night and was never seen again...”_

After reading the brief summary in one scroll, he looked for references in the other books, and found this:

> _“Galador, first Lord of Dol Amroth (c. Third Age 2004-2129) was the son of Imrazó_ _r, the Númenorean_   _, who dwelt in Belfalas, with his wife, the Elven-lady Mithrellas.  She had been a servant or companion to Nimrodel, who fled to the coast about the year 1980 T.A. along with many others, when evil arose in Moria. Nimrodel and her maidens were lost, but there is a persistent story that one Silvan Elf, named Mithrellas, was found and harbored by the man Imrazó_ _r, and he later married her.  But when she had borne him a son, Galador, and a daughter, Gilmith, she slipped away by night and he saw her no more.  But though Mithrellas was of the lesser Silvan race (and not of the High Elves or the Grey) it was ever held that the house and kin of the Lords of Dol Amroth was noble by blood, as they were fair in face and mind.”_

So, Mithrellas was Silvan, as was Daeron!  There _had_ to be something to that…  Silvans were considered “crude and rustic” to many others, but Oropher, Galadriel and Celeborn knew better, as did Thranduil and Legolas.   They were more attuned to the land and forests than any other type of Elf, and it was unlikely that Silvans would ever hear the call of the sea. 

It stood to reason that they could find love with other races, such as Tauriel with Kili.  No one can know what would have happened, had Kili lived, but it was entirely possible that they would join in marriage and be happy, for as long as Kili lived.

The story of Mithrellas’ fate, as well as Nimrodel and her companions, left too many unanswered questions.  Thranduil was irritated that the text in the book implied that Mithrellas left her husband and children voluntarily; Silvan Elves loved their mates every bit as passionately as Sindarin and Noldor Elves did!  Unless IMrazór was cruel and abusive, she would be with him, and if that were true, no Elf would abandon her children to such a father.

If Mithrellas had not joined with Imrazór willingly, she would have faded right away from grief - there simply  _had_ to be a better explanation!  He also noted that Nimrodel and all her companions were lost without a trace, so it seemed likely that they were kidnapped and killed by Orcs, as no trace of them were found. 

No.  Mithrellas would never leave her husband or her children, and a Silvan Elf living in a city such as Dol Amroth would have to spend a great deal of time walking in the forest to rejuvenate herself.  She had to have been killed or taken somehow…

Pushing the stack of books aside, Thranduil began to write three long letters: one to Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien, one to Mithrandir, who was currently wintering at Beorn’s house, and the last to Prince Angelimir of Dol Amroth.

After sending them off, he did as much work ahead as he could, because he was going to take a couple of days off.

Bard was coming to visit tomorrow!

 

***************

 

**The Woodland Realm, 11 th of March, 2942 T.A.**

 

“Is he here yet?” Tilda asked Galion anxiously, when she came from her room.  Meriel smiled down at her, from behind her wheelchair. 

“Not as yet, _hênig._   Soon.  Your Ada is finishing up his work for the morning, and the other children should be finished with their classes any time now.

As if on cue, the door opened, and Rhys and Bain came in through the door, followed by Sigrid and Daeron. 

“Are they here yet?” the blonde boy asked eagerly. 

“Not yet,” Tilda replied.

“Rhys, the rooms are set up with you and your father during his stay, so please go and gather your things to stay down the Hall.”

“Oh, I did that last night; it’s all ready to go.  Besides, if I need something else, I can just stop in here.”

“That sounds agreeable.”  To all the children, he said, “Please put your morning books away, and wash your hands,” Galion ordered them.  “Lunch will be served in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, Galion.”  Sigrid went over and kissed the Aide’s cheek.  “By the way, I did well on my history test.  Thanks for the help with Doriath.”

“You are most welcome.  I am glad to be of help.”

“He _should_ be helpful, Iellig, he is almost 1700 years older than me!”  Thranduil had just entered his chambers.  “Are Bard and Alun here, yet?”  He asked Galion.

Tilda giggled, as Bain said.  “Nope.  But the weather is sunny today, so it shouldn’t be long.  How long will he be staying?”

“He will be here for two days.”  Galion told the children.  “His letter said he planned on leaving on Tuesday, after lunch.

“Goodie!”  Tilda said.  “I can’t wait!”

Thranduil went over and kissed the top of her head.  “Daeron tells me you are did very well in the pool yesterday.”

“She enjoys it very much, My Lord.”  Meriel confirmed.  “This afternoon, we will do your lessons, after her nap.”

“Do I have to?  Da’s coming!”

“I am afraid, so, My Lady.  We must not let you get too tired.  I am sure your Da will insist upon it, too.”

Daeron bent down and did a quick check of Tilda’s heart and lungs, then politely excused himself, after confirming with the children they had their riding lesson this afternoon.  “Soon, Lady Tilda, I think you will be ready to ride.  It will be good for you; your back and arms are getting much stronger; if your progress continues, I see no reason why you cannot begin in a week.”

“Really?”  The little girl squealed. 

“Hello all!”  Hilda came in.  “Is he here yet?”

“Not yet.”  Thranduil answered, as the children came out from their chambers.

“Our hands are nice and clean,” Bain assured the Elves, “and we’re starved!”

There was a knock on the door, and Daeron went to open it, to allow the servants to bring the trays of food.  There was chicken vegetable soup, with rolls and butter, along with blueberry turnovers for dessert and a pitcher of cow’s milk, for the children, and tea for the adults.

“It smells really good,” Bain said, as they all sat down to eat.

They were all working on their dessert, when the door opened and, at last, Bard walked in the room. He looked wind-blown, and his clothes looked a bit wrinkled, but otherwise eager to see his family.

Alun looked equally rumpled, as he followed Bard into the room.

“Da!”  Sigrid jumped out of her chair and went to hug him, closely followed by Bain.

“DA!”  Rhys quickly swallowed down his dessert, and went his father’s waiting arms.

“Hello, kids!” The King of Dale kissed and hugged both of them. “Let me look at you…  Bain, I swear you’ve gotten taller!”

“What about me, Da?”  Tilda asked, from her chair at the table. 

Bard let go of the older children and went around to give her a hug.  “You look rosier and more filled out, Little Bean!”

“Shall we show them, My Lady?” Meriel asked her, as she smiled down at her.

“Aye!” The little girl grinned. “Da and Ada, you stand right there, because we’ve got a big surprise!”

As everyone looked on, Thranduil came over and urge Bard to stand about six feet away from Tilda’s chair.  Then Meriel got up and helped Tilda get out of her chair to stand.  “Are you ready?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” Tilda nodded, as Meriel let go.

And she stood up.  

_All by herself._

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Neledho –_ Enter (command)

 

NOTES: 

**The debate between Andreth and Finrod can be found in the History of Middle Earth, Vol. 10 _Morgoth’s Ring, Part IV: Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth._ You can also find info on this webpage:  http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Athrabeth_Finrod_ah_Andreth#Conclusion

 

**The Story of Tuor and Idril can be found _The Silmarillion: The Quenta Silmarillion: Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin.”_ You can also find info on this webpage:  http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Tuor

 

**The story of Imrazôr and Mithrellas, is found in _Unfinished Tales of Numenor and Middle Earth_ , page 248: _“The History of Galadriel and Celeborn,” and “Amroth and Nimrodel.”_ More info can be found here: http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Mithrellas

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard's surprises continue, and he and Thranduil have a delightful, private reunion.
> 
> Tilda and her Ada go looking for an important story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to send out a HUGE thank-you to my dearest Superfan, Leemitage, who loves all things Barduil, and has never failed to give me feedback, which is greatly appreciated.
> 
> I have even more reason to be grateful, because she has agreed to be my Beta-Reader - how lucky am I?

 

 

 

 

**The Woodland Realm, 11 th of March, 2942, T.A.**

 

Bard’s breath caught, as he watched Tilda stand all by herself.  His throat tightened, and his eyes began to fill. 

“That’s so wonderful, Tilda...”  He said, roughly, and made a move to go to her, but Meriel stopped him.

“Please; wait, My Lords…” 

Bard look at the Elven Healer in puzzlement, then he and Thranduil looked at each other.

“Why?”

She gave him an enigmatic smile.  “You shall see.  The Princess has a surprise.” She gestured with her hand.  “My Lady?”

Slowly, Tilda picked up her left foot and stepped forward, then her right.

Bard’s hands when to his mouth, and he heard Thranduil gasp loudly, and he felt fingers dig into his shoulder.

 _“Ai, tithen míriel mín_ _…”_ The Elvenking whispered softly, as he watched their daughter with wide eyes.

Bard squatted down, held out his arms, as everyone held their breath.  Tilda gave him a gap-toothed smile, as she swung her arms a bit to maintain her balance.  With her face pouted in concentration, she took four more steps, and fell into her Da’s waiting arms.  Bard let out a sob, scooped her up and buried his face in her neck.

“Oh, my girl…”  He breathed, and he felt like his chest was going to burst.  

“Don’t cry Da,” Tilda said, “You’re supposed to be happy.”

“Oh, love, I am happier than I can tell you,” he lifted his head and sniffed.  “That is the best gift you've ever given me.”

Bard felt Thranduil’s long arms encircle them both, and whispered, _“Mae garnen, Tithen Pen.  Mae garnen…”_

“Da?”  Tilda said breathlessly.  “You and _Ada_ are squishing me.”

“We are?” he croaked.  “I’m sorry Beanie, but we’re just so proud of you, sweetheart.”  Bard gave a rough laugh, and Thranduil and Bard lessened their hold.

“I made everybody promise to keep it secret, cause I wanted to surprise you!”

“Oh, I’m surprised, all right.”  He hugged her again, and looked over at Thranduil, who was smiling through his own tears.  “You didn’t know about this, either?” 

Thranduil was wiping his eyes, with his handkerchief before he handed it to Bard.  “No, _Meleth nîn,_ I did not.”  He stroked Tilda’s hair and kissed her forehead.  “This was a wonderful gift, _hênig.”_ He whispered.

When did this happen?” Bard wondered.

“I’ve been practicing."  She told him.  “I showed everybody, but only if they _promised_ not to tell."

“I’ll bet they were happy,” Bard smiled at her.

“Uh huh. Auntie Hil cried."

Hilda nodded her head, as she blew her nose.  “I wasn’t as bad as Percy.  He blubbered all over her.”

 _"Percy_ knew about this?  He's a blabbermouth!"

“I made him pinky-swear.”  Tilda said very seriously.

“Bain and Rhys yelled so loud, the guards came to see what was wrong!”  Sigrid told him, laughing.

Alun had his arm around his son.  “I’m happy for you all, My Lord.”

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Bard kissed his daughter’s hair, again, and looked over at Thranduil, who was still trying to collect himself.

“Did you like my surprise, _Ada?”_

Thranduil’s voice caught when he tried to speak.  He kissed her hair, and gave her a watery smile.  “I will treasure this memory, child.”

“Have either of you eaten?”  Galion asked Bard and Alun.

“We had a bit of bread and cheese on the road, but otherwise, nothing since breakfast.” Bard handed her to Thranduil, and sat down at the table.   “Come on, Alun, you’re as hungry as I am.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Alun sat on the other side of the table next to Rhys.  “This looks delicious, Galion.”

“Thank you.  I have also arranged for some snacks for your rooms, later.”

“Great!”  Rhys said.  “I’m always hungry after riding.”

“Speaking of rides, how was yours, Da?”  Bain asked his father.

“It was quiet, thank the Stars, but I’m glad to be here.” Bard dipped a roll into his soup, and took a bite. “Mmmm…  Your kitchens have done it again.”

“I will pass along your compliments.” Galion said, with a smile, as he poured tea into Bard’s and Alun’s cups.

Everyone stayed and visited, until it was time for the children to go to their afternoon riding classes.  Bard pulled out a paper from his pocket and gave it to Hilda.  “Percy asked me to bring this.”

“Thank you,” she put it into her pocket, then got up, “Come on, kids.  Tell your Das goodbye; you’ll see them later.”

There were some moans and groans, but the three of them quickly accepted their fate.

“I’m coming with you, Rhys. I’ve already dropped my things and I want to sit in the seats and watch you.”  Alun and his son were the first out door.

“See you later, Da!”  Bain waved. 

“Bye, Da.”  Sigrid kissed him on the cheek. 

“Do I have to take a nap?”  Tilda gave him her best puppy dog eyes, from Thranduil’s lap.

“I am afraid so, _hênig._   Meriel will not allow you to get too tired.”  Thranduil nodded to Meriel.  “We can put Tilda down for her nap.  You may take an afternoon for yourself; go spend some time with Dior.”

The Dark-Haired Elf smiled eagerly and curtsied.  “Thank you, My Lord.”

“Wait!” Bard said.  “How is Dior, by the way?”

“He is still not ready to return to duty, but he is recovering well.  The blood loss left him extremely weak, but he will be ready for duty in a few days.”

“Send him my best, will you?”

Meriel smiled at him.  “I will, My Lord.”  And she left.

 

Once lunch was over and dinner cleared, Galion went back to work in his office, and the Kings took Tilda into the nursery and helped her get ready for her nap.

“I don’t sleep in the mornings anymore, Da.  I only have one nap in the afternoon, now.”

“I see that, Beanie.”  Bard smiled down at her.  “Did you have fun with Uncle Percy, when he was here?”

She nodded.  “We went all over the Palace and he even carried me to the barns, so I could show him my favorite horse!”

“Did you let him spend time with Auntie Hil?” Bard grinned. 

“Da-a!  Of course, I did!”

“That was very nice of you.” He pulled her covers up and sat down with her on the bed.  “Come on, Little Bean.  I’ll read to you, how does that sound?”

So the Kings snuggled with her, and Bard read from a book of children’s stories, as she relaxed against him.  Despite her protests, she soon began to yawn, and it wasn’t long before she was sound asleep, with her arms full of her stuffed toys.

Bard kissed her forehead, smoothed her hair, and they left the nursery, leaving the door open just a crack.  As usual, Esta was at the foot of the bed, asleep herself.

 

Once they were in their bedroom, Bard gathered his Elf to him and kissed him the way he had wanted to, when he first arrived.  “I don’t know about you, but my nights have been long.”

“Mine, as well.” Thranduil said, as he rubbed their noses together.  “I am so glad you are here.  I have missed your touch, _Meleth nîn.”_

“You have?” Bard bit his lip.  “How much?”

Thranduil answered him by getting up and grabbing Bard by the wrist and dragging him into their dressing room.  As soon as the door was shut, Thranduil had his tunic and undershirt off, and made quick work of Bard’s lacings and smallclothes, until he stood before his Elf, naked and wanting.

Bard wasn’t idle, though.  Between kisses, he took off Thranduil’s clothes, until they were puddled on the floor.  They began to lick and fondle each other until they were both a hard, moaning mess.

“Let me fuck you, _Meleth nîn…_ I want to be inside you…”  Thranduil breathed into his mouth. 

“Gods, please…  Hurry…”  Bard moaned, and before he could say anything else, Thranduil roughly turned him around with Bard’s hands on the vanity.  He grabbed the jar of oil and within seconds had two fingers in him and began to stroke. 

Bard threw his head back and panted.  It stung at first, but Thranduil’s magic fingers sent jolts of pleasure through him.  “Oh… fuck… right there, love…”  His hips began to move; the sensation was overwhelming, and he couldn’t stop himself.

“Do you like how much I have missed you?” Thranduil smiled down at him, and he reached around and began to work his cock and massage his balls.

“Aaah! Bloody fuck!” Bard moaned loudly.  “Please tell me there’s still a silencing spell!”

“Of course, _Meleth nîn.”_ Thranduil bit his shoulder, and made Bard squeal louder. 

“I want you in me.” He gasped. “Hard and hot and ready for me.”

The Elvenking removed his fingers, and turned Bard around, to kiss him, deep and hard. Their tongues wrestled with each other as Bard took some oil and began to roughly stroke the Elf’s cock.  Thranduil moaned at the feel of Bard’s urgent hand, and repaid him by biting Bard’s nipple and sucking on it, hard.

“Aaaaagh…” Bard began to buck from the pleasure.  “I’m glad no one will hear us, because I plan to make a _lot_ of noise.”

“Always, _Meleth_ _nîn_.  Mmmm…”  Thranduil was enjoying Bard’s ministrations, and his hips began to jerk with the motions.  “Enough!  I cannot wait any longer!”

Then Thranduil urged Bard’s legs around his waist and took him over against the wall, where he guided himself behind Bard’s cock and balls, and entered him with one, long stroke.  Both of them groaned loudly, as Thranduil began to thrust roughly into him. 

 _“A!  Ma, ma, ma…”_   Thranduil croaked.  _“Mae ad limp mi gin!”_

“I love it when you fuck me hard…”  Bard had his arms around the Elf’s shoulders, and began to lick the tip of Thranduil’s pointed ear, and smiled, when he heard Thranduil cry out, and thrust into him even harder and faster.

He latched onto the ear, and began to flick his tongue back and forth, and suck on it, driving his husband wild, and with the hand still slick with oil, Bard reached in between him and began to stroke himself, rapidly and roughly.

Thranduil was helpless against the crashing tides of pleasure flowing through them both.  His grunts and groans vibrated against Bard’s chest, as the Elf bit down on one of his nipples, as he rammed himself inside of the Bowman’s wet heat.

When Thranduil came, he screamed through gritted teeth, and pounded his hand against the wall. Bard clasped on to him and hung on, and seconds later he moaned through his own release, as their hips still thrust together.  In moments like these, all they could see were bright starbursts and white light, and all they could hear was rushing in their ears from the pounding of their hearts.  It was explosive and unforgettable, like it was the very first time.  Like it was _every time._

At last, their movements slowed, and finally stopped, as Thranduil still held Bard against the wall of the dressing room.  They closed their eyes and held each other and enjoyed the cocoon of warmth and pleasure.

Bards smiled into the crook of Thranduil’s neck. “That alone, was reason to come, you know. It would be worth a five-hour ride each way, just to be fucked like this.”  He sighed, and kissed up and down the Elf’s neck.

Thranduil laughed sleepily.  “I can never get enough of you.  Whether I have you, or you take me; I feel complete when we are together. Your heart and your body is my home, Bard.”  He kissed Bard’s chest, lovingly.

At last, they felt calm and a bit steadier, and when he was soft enough to leave Bard, Thranduil backed away, and Bard set his legs on the floor.  They leaned on each other, and a towel was used to wipe up the majority of the mess, before donning robes to go take a bath together.  When Bard sank in to the blissfully hot water, he closed his eyes and moaned with delight.   “This is another reason why I love to come.  I don’t know how we’re going to manage it, but I’ll have hot baths in my Castle; by hook or by crook.  There’s _got_ to be a way.”

“I seem to remember Girion had running water, and a system of boilers.  I can look in my library for plans, although I thought you wanted to wait until work was done on the homes of your people, first.”

“I do.  And if the Castle can have hot running water, and privies, then there’s no reason why all the homes shouldn’t have it, somehow.  Please, get the plans, and I’ll see if Ben can’t work up something.”

Thranduil came behind Bard and gathered him against his chest, and began to wash him.  “I will see who can assist Ben from my own maintenance crews.  We must have hot baths in Dale.”

“Let’s look into it.”  Bard yawned.  “I’m sorry, love,” he said, sleepily.  “That long ride takes it out of me.” He mumbled with a grin.  “Not to mention a thorough fucking, from my favorite Elf.”

He felt a kiss on the side of his neck.  “Relax, _Meleth nîn._   I will wash you, and then you can take a nap.”

“But that’s not fair.  You’ll be doing all the work.” He mumbled, weakly.

“It is no work, to care for my husband’s beautiful body.  I find it quite enjoyable.  Now, be quiet and allow me to have my fun.”

So, Bard let Thranduil have his way, and soon, Bard was clean and helped out of the bath, and his Elf dried him thoroughly and helped him get into his robe.  Then he was led to their bed, and urged under the covers, as his Thranduil crawled in behind him, and gathered him close. 

All Bard could remember after that, was the warmth against his back and strong loving arms around him, as he drifted off, with a smile.

 

***************

 

Thranduil awakened from his nap to the feel of a tongue licking his face.   He opened his eyes, and stroked Esta’s head absently, as he looked to his right, and saw Bard.  He loved to watch his husband sleep; especially his cute little frown as he shifts around and his oh-so-soft snore. 

He could have watched his Bowman for hours, but Esta needed to go out, and he heard some stirring in the nursery, so he got up and pulled his leggings and a tunic on and went to the nursery.

Tilda was trying to sit up by herself, so he went over and helped her.  “How to you feel, _Tithen Pen?_   Did you have a good nap?”

She smiled a nodded her head.  “Is Da still here?”

“Yes, although he is taking his own nap.” He smiled down at her and ran his fingers through her hair, to get the tangles out of it.  “He had a very long ride this morning.   Do you need to go to the privy, _hênig?”_

“Yes, please.  Can you just carry me?  It would be quicker than using my chair.”

So, once that business was done, he carried Tilda out into the living room and got her some water and cut up an apple for her as a snack, while they snuggled in the overstuffed chair. 

“Is it good?”  He asked, as she chewed.

“Uh huh.  _Ada?”_

“Yes, _Tithen Pen?”_

“I’ll be good as new, soon, won’t I?”

“Well, let us see: your memory is better, is it not?  The games that you play with Meriel and Daeron help with that.  You do not get frustrated and moody as much as you used to, and you are talking in long sentences now.  You can see from your chart that you can do more and more exercises.” He booped her nose.  “And, you can walk!  What do you think?”

“Swimming in your pool is fun.”

“I can imagine.  It must remind you of Laketown, during the summer.”

“I like to swim.  Da used to take us on picnics, sometimes.  Auntie Hil and Uncle Percy liked to go too.”

“That sounds like fun.  Did you go in your Da’s boat?”

“Sometimes, when Da would take the barrels, I would go with him.  We all took turns, for 'special time' with him.  He taught me about the stars, and the fish and showed me the trees and flowers.  I liked it.”

Thranduil tucked her head under his chin.  “Someday soon, I want to take you into my forest, to show you some of my favorite places.  Did you know Elves can talk to the trees?”

Tilda sat up and looked at him with wide eyes.  “Really?”

“Certainly, I have many friends among the trees.  I have a favorite tree in the forest; one I used to climb when I was small, to get away from things and think.”

“Is he still there?”

“Yes, and no.”

“Don’t trees live forever?”

“No, _hênig,_ they do not.  In time my tree gets old, and becomes fragile and dies, but I always replant one of his acorns.  I also add things to the soil to keep him healthy.  When he becomes big and strong again, he remembers me.”

"How long does he last before you have to replant him?"

"Every six or seven hundred years."

“Wow…  That’s _old,_ old…  Is he big now?"

“He is, but he is sleeping for the winter.  Even so, he wakes up when I climb him, so we 'talk.'"

“What does your tree tell you?”

“Well, he doesn’t speak in words, but when I put my hands on him, I see how happy he is to see me, and I can feel his song.  It is hard to explain; it just…is.”

“How do you tell him things?  If he doesn’t use words, how does he know what you mean, _Ada?”_  

“I use words when I talk to him.  I like to sit on one of his high limbs, and tell him what makes me happy, or if I am sad, he listens to me and helps me feel better.  He senses it."

“I wish Da had a tree like that, when he was sad.”

“Why is that?”  He smiled down at her.

“It could have talked to him, and made him feel better, after Mam died.”

“He smiled.  “But your Da is not an Elf, so he cannot hear trees.”

“But he could still talk to it.”

“True, but your Da had Uncle Percy and Auntie Hil.  He also had you children to help him be happy.”

“Do I make him happy?”

Thranduil smiled.  “Your Da finds much joy in you.  We all love you, _hênig.”_

Tilda looked up at him with serious eyes.  _“Ada?_   If I ask you something, would you promise to tell me the truth?”

“Of course, _Tithen Pen,_ I will never lie to you.  What troubles you?”

“Did I kill my mother?”

“What?”  Thranduil was completely shocked.  “Do you really think this, child?”

“Sometimes.” She shrugged.  “I know she died when I got borned, so..."

“Have you spoken to your Da about this?”

“No.  It would make him sad."

Thranduil studied her face, then tucked her under his chin, so he could think, for a minute or two…

“I can understand why you would not want to bring it up with your Da, or Auntie Hil, my _Tithen Pen._   I've been told Mistress Hannah was the one who brought you into this world.  Would you like for us to speak with her?”

Tilda nodded her head.  “Could we?”

He sighed.  “You are still recovering from a serious illness, so I cannot allow you to get upset…” He studied her face carefully, “but perhaps this is something that can ease your mind…  Come, _hênig.”_

He picked her up and took her out the door and told the guard to send for Hannah.  He said to the other guard.  “If Lord Bard looks for us, please tell him we will be back shortly, and we are not to be disturbed.”  Then he took her into his study, and they waited.

 

Soon Hannah arrived, and Galion served her a cup of tea, as Thranduil held Tilda in his lap.

“Thank you for coming, Mistress Hannah.”  He told her.  “Tilda has been wondering about her birth, and is a bit worried that she may have been the cause of her mother’s death.  I believe she deserves an answer from someone who was there, so her fears can be put to rest.  I do not like to go behind Bard’s back, but we do not want to stir up memories for him.  Do you understand our position?”

Hannah nodded her head.  “I do, My Lord.”  Then she turned to the little girl.  “Tilda, it’s perfectly natural to want to know about your birth, love."

"But it made everybody sad."

Of course, some of the story was sad, but it was also very beautiful, and even miraculous, too.”  The woman gave her a genuine smile.

“Was Mam sick?”

“Yes, she was.  I think she was sick before, but we didn’t know it.  I took care of your Mam with Sigrid and Bain, and she was very healthy with both of them and had an easy time, but something wasn’t right with her, when she was carrying you.”

Tilda’s eyes were wide, and she leaned into Thranduil for reassurance.  He held her tight, and stroked his hands over her hair.  “Do you want to stop, Tilda?  I do not want you getting upset.”

“I want to know, _Ada._   Please?”

Hannah came over to the couch where the little girl was sitting, and put her hand on Tilda’s cheek.  “Lovey, you did _nothing_ to your mother; I promise you.  Mattie was sick in her _own_ body.”

“So… I didn’t make her sick?”

“Absolutely not.  There was something terribly wrong, something no one could have prevented.  She would get very tired, and bruise easily and sometimes her nose would bleed, for no real reason.  All we could do, was make sure your Mam got the rest she needed, and had good, nourishing food.  Medicine was scarce then, but I don’t think it would have helped.”

“Why?”  Tilda was curious.

“I’ve seen that kind of thing before, in men and women, and there’s nothing to be done.  Something wasn’t right with her blood, you see.  By all rights, it should have taken you, too. But your Mam loved you so much, she wouldn’t let you get sick.”

“She didn’t let me get sick in her belly?”

“Your Mam prayed and prayed to the Valar to spare you, and lo and behold, there you were; with beautiful hair and long, dark eyelashes, and screaming bloody murder.” Hannah smiled down at her.  “Tilda, you were a  _miracle,_ lovey!  You were an answer to her prayers.”

“So, I could have died too?”

“I've never seen a baby live, when there's a sickness like that, but I didn’t have the heart to say anything.  Then we saw you come out so pink and healthy, your Auntie Hil and I were very surprised."

The midwife’s eyes filled with tears.  “Your Mam knew she couldn’t stay, but all during her labor, she kept begging the Valar to help you, and willed her body to give you _everything_ , so you could be here for your Da.  You were her last gift to him, my darling girl.  She loved you then, and she loves you still.”

Thranduil’s eyes stung.  “Nothing is more powerful than a mother’s love _Tithen Pen.”_   He whispered, and kissed Tilda’s hair.  He couldn’t help but think of Mírelen, and what she'd done to save Legolas.

Tilda looked thoughtful.  “Did my Mam see me?”

 “She sure did!”  Hannah smiled.  “As soon as I got you clean and bundled up, Auntie Hil laid you right beside her head, and oh! The look on her face...  She’d gotten so thin and pale, but when she laid eyes on you, she looked beautiful again, all because of you.”  The midwife took out her handkerchief.  “Your Mam knew it was going to be all right, then.”

“Did she say anything to me?”

“You were crying, as all new babies do, but she started to talk to you, as soon as you heard her voice, you stopped crying and looked right at her.” 

“She talked to me?” Tilda’s eyes widened.  “Really?  What did she say?”

The Midwife nodded.  “She told you how much she loved you, and that she wanted you to grow up to have a good, kind heart, and to be good to your Da.  Mattie said you were going grow up to be a beautiful little girl, and she was right about that, wasn’t she?” Hannah chuckled.

“Mam thought I was pretty?”

“Oh, yes, love, and you _were_  a pretty baby.  Her very last words were, ‘She's so beautiful.’  Mattie couldn't talk after that, but you were the last thing she saw, when she closed her eyes.”  She gave Tilda a reassuring smile.  “So, you see?  You gave your Mam joy and happiness, when she left this world, and that’s a wonderful thing.”

Thranduil added, “Your Auntie Hil tells me she was present at all of your births.  Did you know that, _hênig?”_

Tilda shook her head.

“Hilda would've loved you, regardless, but your Mam asked her to look after you all, and she's loved you every bit as a mother would.”

Tilda considered all of this. “Did Da get mad at me, because Mam died?”

“Oh, no, love.  Your Da loved you the second he laid eyes on you, don’t ever doubt it.” Hannah said, gently.  “It was a sad night, when we lost your Mam, but your Da has never _ever_ blamed you.”

“But how do you know, for sure?”

The child’s words pierced Thranduil’s heart.  What a burden for one so young!  His arms tightened around her, and he couldn’t help but kiss her hair again, as Hannah went on.

 “I know your Da never blamed you, because I was the one who put you into his arms!   Bard looked at you with as much love as your your sister and brother.  It was your Da who named you after your mother, did you know that?”

Tilda shook her head and looked up at Thranduil. “Da talks sometimes about Sigrid and Bain, but he never talks about when I got borned.”

“I am sure he is sad to think of losing your Mam, but that is not your fault.”  He smiled down at her.  “You were a gift from her, to help him be happy, again.  Do you see?”

“That’s true, lovey. You helped him get better, you see?”  Hannah confirmed.  

Thranduil brushed the hair away from her face.  “How do you feel, Tilda?” he asked, gently.

“I'm, sad that Mam died, but I’m glad she got to see me.  And I’m glad I made Da smile again.  Now he has you, _Ada,_ and Tauriel, too.” The little girl looked at Hannah and Thranduil.  “Will Da get mad 'cause we’re talking about it?”

“I do not think so,” Thranduil assured her.  “I do not keep secrets from your Da, but let me speak to him, _hênig;_ I am sure it will be fine.  Will you trust me?”

“All right, _Ada.”_

“And if you ever want to talk again, I’m here, lovey.”  Hannah got up. “I’ve got some appointments, so I'd best be on my way.  Tilda,” she smiled down at the little girl.  “I’m glad I could tell you about this.  It was a special night.”

“Even though it was sad?”

Hannah stroked her hair. “You were your Mam's miracle baby; a gift from the Valar. And Mattie went on to a place where she will always be young, and happy, and that’s  wondrous thing, too.” Hannah said, softly.  “And it was special because she gave your Da a beautiful baby girl.” 

Hannah smiled, patted Tilda’s hair, then excused herself.

“Are you all right, _Tithen Pen?”_   Thranduil asked her. “Do you feel better?”

“She knew me...” Tilda said with wonder.  “My Mam knew me.” She said, softly.

“Yes, Tilda, she did.  She loved you from the moment she knew you were going to come, and she loved you as you grew in her belly, and she loves you still, just as my wife still loves Legolas.  Tauriel lost her parents when she was a baby, but they still love her.”  He lifted her chin with his fingers and looked into her face.  “No matter where you go, or what you do, her love will always surround you.”

“I…miss her, sometimes, even though I don’t remember.”

“Of course, you do!  It is natural to wonder what your life would be like, had she lived.  But try not to get caught up in those thoughts, because you can forget to see the blessings you have now.”  He smiled.  “She wants you to live the best life you can, and be happy, so when you see her again, you can tell her all about it.”

“Like when Da leaves, we should try to have a good time, so we can write him good stories?”

“Exactly, _Tithen Pen.”_  Thranduil picked Tilda up again.  “Come now.  Let us see if your Da is awake.”

He carried her across the Hall, to find Bard lounging in front of the fire with a book.

“Where have you two been?” He grinned up at them both.

 “Me and _Ada_ were…"  Tilda looked at Thranduil. "...looking for a story.”

“Did you find it?”

Thranduil booped her nose, and winked.  “Yes, _Meleth nîn,_ we did.”

 

***************

 

 Soon, it was time for the children to come back from their afternoon activities.  

He and Thranduil sat in the Living Room and relaxed, as the children did their homework.  Tilda was also there, in her wheel chair, practicing her writing with some specially adapted pencils.

Galion came in the door, and went the Kings.  “May I speak with you?” he said in a low voice.

Bard looked at his husband.  “Sure.  Here or in your office?”

“In Thranduil’s office, please.  It should only take a few minutes, but it is important.”

They got up and Thranduil put his hand on Sigrid’s shoulder.  “You are in charge, _Iellig.”_

Sigrid smiled up at him.  “Sure, _Ada._   We’re almost done.”

Bard enjoyed watching the exchange between his husband and their children.  As hard as this separation was, the weeks here helped to cement their bond and they were a true family.

They went to Thranduil’s study to find Galion holding a letter.

“This is a reply from Mithrandir, regarding my inquiries about…the incident. I wanted you both to know about it, right away.”

Thranduil took the letter and began to read aloud:

_Greetings Lord Galion:_

_I was very interested to get your letter describing the events in the Palace two weeks past.  I, too, share your immense relief that Bard and Thranduil managed to find their way through these difficulties, with no permanent damage, and a stronger bond._

_To answer your question, it is entirely possible that the a of evil tried to find a home in Bard.  Your description of his behavior, and his own bewilderment, seems to indicate thus.   _

_If your assumption is correct, it would certainly account for his actions and words.  If that evil was not overcome, it could have caused a chain reaction that would threaten the entire North!_

_I been there, I most likely would have recognized it for what it was, and banished it from him, and that would have been good.  But, I am most encouraged to hear that, with yours and Lady Hilda’s help, they found a way to banish it themselves, which is even better._

_My intervention could have still left them vulnerable, but their own character and affection turned that weakness into strength.  That's more powerful than any spell I could conjure.  To love and forgive is the mightiest of weapons against the hatred that the Enemy loves to breed in us.  It can ruin a man, disintegrate a family, and topple a government._

_This might sound to some as overly simplistic, and smarmy, but these are the basic underlying truths to which we all must hold, if we are to defeat the Evil One in the end.  All three Kingdoms must never forget to be vigilant about such things; our Enemy is always looking for ways to destroy everything that is good in Middle Earth._

_Yes, Bard lacks experience as a King, but he has a genuine desire for wisdom, and knows how to love and care for others. If he stays on this path, Dale will continue to grow and thrive by his fine example, and I foresee that he will be the glue that holds all three Kingdoms together!_

_With my fondest regards,_

_Mithrandir_

_P.S.  I was saddened to learn of little Tilda’s illness.  It will take a bit more time, but the child will fully recover.  I hope this brings you all comfort._

 

Thranduil’s voice broke when he read the post script.

“Thank you, Galion; this is good news.” Bard whispered.  “It’s good news all around.”

“It is,” The Aide smiled.

 

Later, after everyone else was down for the night. Thranduil and Bard stripped down, then the Elvenking held out his arms, and Bard went to him, and settled against him.

They both sighed blissfully, with Bard’s head on Thranduil’s shoulder.  “I love this…” he mumbled.  “You’re much easier to sleep with than a farting dog.”

Thranduil snorted with laughter.  “I certainly hope so.”

Bard smiled, as he rubbed the Elf’s chest and stomach in small circles. 

“Bard?” he heard Thranduil whisper quietly.

“What, love?”

“I have to tell you something, and I hope you do not think I have overstepped my boundaries…”

“Boundaries?”  Bard lifted his head.  “What are you talking about?”

“Tilda asked me some questions this afternoon, while you were napping, so I helped her find some answers.”

“The ‘story’ you two were looking for?  What did she want to know?” he grinned up at his husband.  “Where little Elflings come from?”

Thranduil wasn’t smiling back. “You are partly right.  She shared her fears about her own birth, because she did not want to broach the subject with you or Hilda.”

“Why not?”

Thranduil looked at him, not saying anything, until Bard was suddenly filled with realization.

 “Oh, gods…  How long has she thought that way?”

“For quite some time I think.  The best thing to do was to send for Hannah, who was very kind, and made her understand she was in no way responsible for her mother’s death.”

He sat up and ran his hands in his hands through his hair.  “She thinks she killed her own mother?”

“I am afraid that was her exact question.  She knows how much you love her now, but I think she was afraid you had to struggle to forgive her, when she was first born."

“Oh, no…”  Bard felt like a spear rammed through his chest.  “That's not...  What did Hannah say?”

So Thranduil told him everything that was asked and all the answers.  Bard listened with increasing interest; much of this he didn’t know.  At the time, he was so full of grief to even think of asking, and he made himself get on with things and wouldn’t let himself wonder.

“They thought Tilda would be stillborn.” Bard said, very quietly.

“Yes.”  Thranduil told him. “I am sorry if this distresses you.”

“I knew Mattie was sick…  That was such a terrible, terrible night…” He felt Thranduil’s hand in his back, rubbing it in slow circles.  “When Hilda came to the house to tell me, everything began to spin, and I covered my ears before she could say a word.”

“Why, _Meleth_?” Thranduil asked, quietly.

“I guess… if I didn’t hear the words,” he looked at Thranduil, and sighed, “it wouldn’t be true.”

Thranduil put his arm around him.  “When Tilda was so sick, you did the same thing when you rushed into the nursery that night, did you know that?  I had to pry your hands away, so you could hear that she was still with us.”

Bard leaned his head on Thranduil’s shoulder.  “I never thought Tilda was responsible; not for a second.”  Bard said, thoughtfully.  “It kills me to think she was worried about it, and I’ll make sure she knows that; whatever it takes."

“I know you will, _Meleth nîn_."  Thranduil kissed Bard’s temple, and stroked his hair.  “You are the best of fathers."

“Did Hannah help her?"

“I believe she did.  Hannah told her how happy Mattie was to know she was alive, and told her all she said.  Mattie felt joy as she slipped away; is that not something we all wish for?”

Bard leaned over to kiss Thranduil.  “I never thought of that, but I’m glad Mattie could see Tilda was going to be all right.  She had peace in the end.”

Thranduil sighed.  “I cannot help but wish Mírelen had the same, when she left us.”

Bard saw the sadness flicker in his Elf’s eyes.  “Mírelen may not have felt joy, but I think you gave her peace, when she passed.”

Thranduil looked confused. “I do not understand.”

“Think about it, love.  Your wife died trying to protect Legolas, right?”

“Yes,” was the Elf’s whispered reply.

“You said she was still conscious when you got to her?”

 Thranduil murmured.  "She couldn’t talk, but our _fëas_ …said much.”

 She must have known Legolas was safe, when she saw your face, didn’t she?”

“He was screaming, but Feren comforted him."

Bard looked into his eyes. “She knew he was alive, and she knew you'd take care of him.”  Bard said, as he caressed Thranduil’s cheek.  “Didn’t you say that the _only thing_ that kept you from fading, was _her_ voice in your head, urging you not to leave him?”

All the Elf could do was nod, as he swallowed hard.  

“So you gave Mírelen peace, when she heard the call of Mandos, didn’t you?”

“But… ”

“You were hurting, and you were trying to stay alive, but you kept your promise.  Remember what Gandalf said in his letter?  We must learn to let go, forgive ourselves, and to embrace the love we have now.”

After a few minutes, Thranduil took his hand and kissed it.  “Thank you,” he whispered.  “So… You do not object to me helping Tilda this way?”

“Of course not!” Bard told him.  “She trusted her _Ada_  with her most important secret!.”  He smiled at him and kissed the Elf’s brow.  "That's a sign that you're really a parent to her."

“Would Mattie want this, Bard?  I do not want to take her place..."

“She would, love.  And I'd never want Legolas to forget about his mother."

Thranduil sighed, and brought their foreheads together.  “I love you very much."

“And I completely adore you.”

They kissed and held each other for several long minutes, snuggled back down, but Bard lay awake for a long time, thinking about his Mattie, and wishing her peace and happiness in her new life. 

He sent up yet another prayer of thanks to her and to the Valar for the gift lying in his arms.

  

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Ai, tithen míriel mî_ _n – Oh, our little jewel_

 _Mae garnen, Tithen Pen.  Mae garnen… -_ Well, done, Little One.  Well done…

 _A!  Ma, ma, ma…_ -  Oh! Yes, yes, yes…

 _Mae ad limp mi gin!_ -  It is soft and wet inside you!

 

 

 

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard and Tilda visit her classmates, and she and Ada make plans to help her remember some things.
> 
> The Kings do a bit of visiting while Bard is there, and Alun is brought up to speed about his mother's condition.
> 
> Daeron enjoys a wonderful two weeks in Dale with Turamarth and Tauriel, before returning to the Palace with Bard.
> 
> Everything is going wonderfully...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It breaks my heart to say this, but my laptop has died. Luckily I have backed up my work on USB's, or I would have lost it ALL.
> 
> While my computer is off to the techno-hospital. I honestly don't know if I can post on my regular schedule. I'll do my best, but I feel completely lost, right now... :-(

 

**The Woodland Realm, 12 th of March, 2942, T.A.**

 

After breakfast, Bard accompanied the children to school, and took Tilda with him, in her chair.

“When can I go back, Da?”  Tilda looked up at him.  “I miss my friends.”

“I know you do, Beanie, and Meriel and Mistress Bronwyn have been watching your progress closely.  I think you'll be starting back soon, and for little bits at a time, so you don’t get too tired.”

“Soon?”

“You’ll have to check with Meriel and Daeron about that.  I think it will be soon.  Would you like to say hello to your class?”

“Could we?”

Bard and the children entered the Dining Hall, and after saying goodbye, Sigrid and Bain went over to their table with Mistress Bronwyn, and Bard wheeled toward the back of the large room.

“Guess who’s here for a visit!”  Bard called out to her teacher.

“Tilda!”  Miss Eryn cried.  “It is good to see you!”

Tilda’s classmates crowded around her to say hello.

“We missed you!”

“Are you coming back soon, Tilda?”

“I like your chair.”

“Can you go anywhere in it?”

“Can’t you walk anymore?”  Asked one little boy, then blushed, when the other children shushed him.

“No, children,” Bard assured them.  “It’s all right to ask questions.  Tilda was very weak from her sickness, but she does lots of exercises to get strong again, and she’s even begun to walk some.”

“I even to exercises in my _Ada’s_ big pool!”  Tilda said.  Which was met by another chorus of oohs, ahs, and questions.

“Your Da has a pool?”

“You’re so lucky!”

“Do you have a swimming dress?”

“How big is the pool, Tilda?”

“Can I come an visit you?”

 

Bard noticed she enjoyed the attention, but something wasn’t quite right with her.  He leaned over and whispered in her ear.  “All right, love?”

She looked up at him.  “Uh huh.”  She was smiling, but he wasn’t quite convinced.

“Tilda, we are so glad to see you, and if you like, I can come to see you to talk about what we’ve been learning.”

“Yes, please,” she said politely.

“Come on, Little Bean.  Let’s get you back, so Meriel can get your morning started."

Tilda waved goodbye to her friends, and Bard went to the center of the Dining Hall and said a few words of approval and encouragement to the children, before he took her back to their chambers. 

Bard picked her up and sat her on his lap.  “So, tell me what’s wrong with my Little Bean.  And don’t pretend there’s not.  I’m your Da, and I can tell.”

Tilda looked down. 

“What’s wrong, love?”  Bard urged her. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” 

Thranduil had entered the living room and, upon seeing her distress, sat down beside them and began to rub her back.  “Come now, _hênig._   Tell your Da and _Ada_ what troubles you.”

“I…  I c-couldn’t remember everybody’s n-names!”  And she screwed her face up and began to cry.

“Oh…”  Bard gathered her into his arms.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.  I’ll bet that’s scary.”

She nodded her head.  “I know they’re my friends, but some of them…  I don’t remember.”

“So, their faces you know, you just have trouble remembering the names?”

“Uh huh,” she sniffed. 

“That’s not surprising.  Remember how much trouble you used to have with that around here?”

“ _Ada_ made cards for me.”

“Does it help?  Do you know the names now?”

“Aye.  But what if I go back to school, and I don’t remember?  They'll think I’m stupid, and laugh at me!"

“Oh, no, no, Beanie.  You are _not stupid,_ do you understand?  You are a wonderful, smart, little girl, and we’ll figure this out.”

Thranduil leaned forward and stroked her hair.  “I will arrange to visit your class as a special surprise, and I will draw their pictures.  I will make one for them, so they can give them to their _Naneths_ , and we will keep copies.  I will help you re-learn their names, and I am sure Miss Eryn can help with other ideas.  How is that?”

She nodded her head, although she sniffled and hiccupped a little.  “That’s good, _Ada.”_

“Consider it done.  Do not worry, _Tithen Pen;_ we will find a way.”

Thranduil reached into his pocket for his handkerchief stopped with Tilda’s face lit up.  “Ooh! I forgot; I’ve got my own!”  And she pulled out her own pink one.

Bard burst out in laughter, and Thranduil gave their youngest a proud smile.

“I asked Uncle Galion if he could get me some, to be like _Ada._   They made them from the gowns you had to wear, when I got sick.”

“See how smart you are?” Bard kissed her on the cheek.  “Now, _Ada_ and I need to see some people, but we’ll be home for lunch, Little Bean.  You’ve got to get your morning work done, right?” 

Meriel stepped up to her with a big smile.  “Are you ready?”

“Uh huh.  By Da, bye _Ada.”_   She said, as Meriel wheeled her off for her morning exercises and lessons.

They made the rounds of the Visitor’s wing to check in on the folks from Dale, and all seemed to be well.  They made a point to check in on Gruffudd and the men, too.

“Good morning!” He said to the older man, who approached him on his crutches.  “I see you’ve got quite the operation going on!”  Bard said, as he shook hands with the man.  “I’m impressed.”

“Aye, we’ve been hard at it, and the Elves have been a big help, too.”  The man gestured with his arm at the work tables. 

“I like it.”  Bard nodded.

“The first shipment will be ready in two weeks.” Thranduil told him. “Once the order for bedframes is complete, Gruffudd and I will see if other items can be made.” 

“Well done, you two!”  The King of Dale grinned. 

“Aye, Lord Thranduil is a good sort, and this is a lot more fun than sitting around twiddling our thumbs.”  Gruffudd added.  “We feel like we’re helping rebuild our home, too, and that’s a boon to our spirits.”

“I can see that.  I’ll check in again, in two weeks, all right?”

“Aye, My Lord.  We’ll be ready.  Good day, My Lords.”  Gruffudd nodded to them and used his crutches to get over to his stool to picked up his bradawl, and got back to work.

 

Thranduil wanted to check in with Glélindë and the girls, so that was their next stop, and were greeted formally by a three-year-old with blonde ringlets, who had been practicing.

“Heyo, Yord Frandool!”  Dafina curtsied, and this time, she managed to stay on her feet. 

“And good morning to you, My Lady,” Thranduil bent down from his great height, and with all seriousness, took her tiny hand and kissed it.  “I am truly honored to be here.”  The little girl clapped both hand over her mouth to hide her smile.

“Heyo, Yord Bard!” And did it again, although she wobbled a little.

“Good morning, to you.  Your curtsy has improved, and I am very pleased.”  Bard bowed to her formally. “Is that a new dress?  It is very beautiful.”  Dafina giggled with delight, and grabbed the bottom of her skirt, and began to swing it, back and forth, in  a wide circle.

“May I help you with something, My Lord?”  Glélindë smiled down at her daughter, and ran her fingers through her hair. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”  Thranduil told her.  “I was hoping you and your daughters could come to my chambers for a visit, in a few days.  Lady Tilda is doing much better, and we think visits from friends would lift her spirits.”

“I have some free time on Friday in the morning, if that would be agreeable?” Glélindë told the Kings.  “Dafina and I could come while Alis and the others are in school, or we could come in the evening?”

“Friday morning is suitable, and we could arrange a dinner, as well, so all the children could be together.  Sigrid would enjoy seeing both your girls.”

‘Lindë put her finger on Dafina’s nose and wiggled it, “Would you like to go and visit Lady Tilda?”

“Goodie!” she swung her arms out wide, and leaned over backwards, in her Nana’s arms.  “Yord Bard, you’re upside-down!”

“Funny how that works, doesn’t it?” Bard grinned, tickled her under her chin.

She straightened up and asked ‘Lindë, “Can we go to their house now, _Nana?”_

“Not today, _Mallen_ _Ant_.  You have playgroup, in a few minutes.”

“Ooh!  Pwaygwoop!”  And she hung upside-down again, with a smile.

“Yes, _Iell nin._   We will go to see Lady Tilda on Friday.”  She looked up at the Kings. “Can I offer you both some tea or refreshment?”

Thranduil nodded politely.  “I would enjoy that very much, but we have another appointment, and we must be going.” He looked at Dafina.  “And you have your playgroup, do you not?”

The little girl put her finger in her mouth and nodded her head.

“Another time, perhaps.”  ‘Lindë said, as she walked with them to the door.  “Thank you for coming.”

 “Bye!” Dafina smiled and waved.

“That child could stop a war, just by smiling.”  Bard chuckled, as they wound their way through the halls and walkways.

Thranduil added, “I look forward to introducing her to Dáin, and seeing him wrapped around her little finger.”

“The Dwarven families will be coming in the spring, too.  Soon, Erebor and Dale will be a lot noisier.”

“ _Ai_ , but my Palace will be much too quiet, then.” Thranduil said sadly.  “I feel bad for my people here; they will miss the children.”

“Some are staying, though, so it won’t be too terrible.  And you said yourself, now that the forest is more peaceful, maybe the Elves will be able to conceive children.”

The Elvenking smiled.  “That would be a marvelous thing.  The heavy weight of evil is much lifted, and my troops have been busy scouring the forest for remnants of Orcs, and we’re finally getting ahead of the spiders.  Their population should be greatly decreased by summer.”

“Your forest will be safe, again.”

 _“Safer,_ yes.  We will enjoy a time of relative peace, although I doubt it will last, as we are facing difficult times, in the future.”

“It’s too bad Lady Galadriel didn’t destroy Dol Guldur when she had the chance.”  Bard remarked.

“Please do not blame her, _Meleth nîn._   She showed tremendous courage, by facing Sauron himself, and spent much of her power to banish him.  She will be recovering from that for many years to come.”

“You’re right; I shouldn’t have said that.”  Bard sighed.  “Well, maybe someday, she’ll get the chance.  I’d like to see it, when it happens.”

“Perhaps you will; I hope to see it, as well.”

They traveled along the halls and walkways, and returned to Thranduil’s study, where Alun was waiting with Galion. 

“How are things, so far?”  Bard asked him.

“Rhys seems fine, thank the Valar.   We talked all last evening, about it.”  He looked at Thranduil, “My son was upset, but he told me how you’ve been looking out for him.  Thank you, My Lord.”

“No thanks are needed, Master Alun.  Rhys is pleasure to take care of.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

There was a knock on the study door, and Thranduil gave permission to enter.  Írimë, Ina’s Elven caretaker came in.

“You sent for me, Sire?”  She asked.  The Elf had a serene countenance, and a lovely smile, with dark blue eyes.  Her long black hair was straight, and fell around the shoulders of the cream-colored dress. 

“Yes, I did, Írimë; thank you for coming.  Please, take a seat.”  Thranduil gestured.  “Alun, Írimë is one of our Healers, and she has been assigned as your mother’s full-time caretaker.  I thought you might like to meet her, and I am sure you would appreciate an assessment of your mother’s condition.”

“I would.  Thank you.” 

“So, tell us, Írimë, how is Mistress Ina, since we saw her last?”

The Ellith sighed.  “She has suffered greatly, and even more so, since her sister’s suicide, and I must still keep her under a 24-hour watch.  I am working on establishing a routine, to encourage constructive and creative pursuits.  She is learning to sew, to knit and other such things, and she is finding it soothing, especially when I have her work with bright cheerful colors.”

“Does she enjoy it?”

“As much as she can enjoy anything right now.  Her concentration is very poor, due to her severe depression, and some of the herbs and teas I administer to keep her calm can make her a bit sleepy.  She is very reluctant to leave her rooms, and cannot tolerate the presence of many people, so for now I have only a select few around her, until she is a bit stronger.

“This sounds a lot like what we did for Rhian, doesn’t it?” Bard observed.

“Ina and Rhian have much in common, My Lord.  Both lived in terror for an extended period of time, and both have been physically and emotionally abused.  The treatment is much the same, although your mother,” she turned to Alun, “is much worse.”

Alun looked very thoughtful.  “My aunt dying is probably the best thing that could have happened to her.”

Írimë looked at him with sympathy.  “I agree with you, and part of your mother sees that, too, but you must understand, she has, in a very short time, lost everything she knew and believed about her life.  She must begin to process all that has happened to her and the murder of your father, whom she loved, very much.”

 “I didn’t know…”  Alun shook his head. “I really didn’t know.”

“Alun,” Bard said, “There was no way you could have.  None of this is your fault, Alun, and you weren’t wrong to protect yourself, and your son.”

“But, isn’t there something I could do?  If everything you’re telling me is true, why must I stay away from her, and do nothing?  I don’t understand!”

Thranduil looked at Alun thoughtfully, then asked Írimë, “What are your thoughts?”

The Healer looked at Alun intensely, for several long minutes.  “I know you are dealing with your own rage, and that is perfectly natural.  As sympathetic as I am, your mother is my patient and I _must be absolutely sure_ of your good intentions.  Her very sanity hangs in the balance right now, and the slightest mistake could destroy her.”  Írimë said firmly, but not unkindly.

“She’s right, Alun,” Bard told him. “No one would fault you, if you need more time.” 

Alun considered all this for a few minutes, then said.  “I’ve turned this over and over in my mind, ever since Lord Bard told me what happened.  I’m furious, at the entire situation, but my mother doesn’t deserve that anger; she never did, and I’m sorry for…”  His voice caught, and he swallowed, hard.  “I just…didn’t know…”

Thranduil said, gently.  “Your rage is certainly justified.  But these are things you must work out within yourself, and keep completely separate from your mother.  Are you honestly able to do that?” 

Tears filled Alun’s eyes.  “Yes, My Lord!”  He took a few moments to collect himself. “I am her son, and I believe she needs me, and even if it’s just in the background.  Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

Írimë regarded him carefully, with narrowed eyes, before she nodded her head and gave him a small smile.  “I believe you, Alun.  You could be key to her recovery, but we must take it slowly and carefully.”

“How so?”

“I cannot let you see her, just yet, until I am sure she is ready.”

“All right; I understand.  So, how can I help?”

“We could try to have you give her letters. But they must be carefully worded, so as not upset her.  I must insist, at least for now, to read them first, so I can help her.”

“Would it help if I write it now, with you here?”

“That would be perfect.”  She looked at Thranduil.  “Will that be possible?”

“Absolutely.”  Thranduil went to his credenza and fetched some plain paper.  “Sit here, at my desk, and Lord Bard and I will allow you some privacy, and take all the time you need.  Galion is in the next room, so if you need anything, let him know.”

Galion looked up from his desk and said, through the open doorway.  “I am at your disposal.”

“Thanks, Galion.” Bard smiled and waved at him.  Then he and Thranduil left the Healer and Alun to their work.

As they closed the study door behind them, Bard couldn’t help but marvel.  “This is working out better than I imagined.”

Thranduil put his arm around Bard’s waist.  “Mithrandir said, in his letter, that love, and forgiveness are the most powerful forces in this world, and beyond.”

“Yes, they are.”

“As Kings, it is a difficult thing to accomplish, because there are times when it is not wise to be merciful, but even then, is out of love.”

“What do you mean?”

“When someone is brought before you, you must ask yourself if showing mercy could endanger anyone else.  If the answer is yes, then you have your answer.  Your love for your people as a whole, and their safety must always be your first priority.”

That’s a good rule of thumb.” Bard agreed.

“ _All_ individuals will beg for your mercy, Bard.  Sentencing someone is still a loving and merciful act, because you are showing your people that you want them to be safe.”

Bard mused.  “Our choices aren’t always clear, are they?”

“No.  Almost never, _Meleth nîn._   But you are a Man who desires wisdom, and that is a quality you should never lose.” Thranduil told him.  "There is a saying among my warriors, and of many warriors throughout Middle Earth: _‘I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.’”_

Bard looked at his husband.  “That’s exactly how I feel about it.  If I ever look forward to wielding a weapon in Battle, then I’ve lost sight of the true purpose of it.”

“Exactly, _Hervenn nîn.”_

“Love wins, again.” He took Thranduil’s hand and kissed it.  “Come on.  Let’s go see the Little Bean and have some lunch.”

 

Later that night, when Thranduil took Bard by the hand, and led him into their dressing room…

…he was wearing his emerald necklace, and had the oil and silk scarves ready.  They managed not to break the furniture this time, but only because it was Bard who teased Thranduil within an inch of his life.

 

***************

 

**The Woodland Realm, 13 th of March, 2942, T.A.**

 

Early in the morning, as they lay in each other’s arms, Thranduil told Bard about Daeron, in general terms.

“I am sorry I cannot say much more, Meleth nîn.  In any case, he has been working much too hard, and he needs a rest, so he will accompany you, and return with you.”

“To be honest, I think I know what the problem is, but if he doesn’t want to talk about it, fine.  Turamarth will keep him busy and do him good.  I’d love the company on the road.”

“I have not had the chance to ask, _Meleth nîn;_ how have your sword work and archery progressed?”

Bard kissed the top of Thranduil’s head.  “Wonderful.  It was slow, at first, but now it’s really snowballed, and I can’t believe the shots I can make now!”

“So, archery is once again a solace for you?”

“It is, love.”

“I am very relieved to hear that, _Meleth nîn.”_   Thranduil raised his head and kissed him.  “For your sacrifice, you have been given back your gift, tenfold.”

“Loving you, is _no_ sacrifice, you silly Elf.”  Bard looked into his eyes and ran his fingers through the long strands of blonde silk.  _“Gi melin, Thranduil; uireb.”_

“And I love you; always.” Thranduil whispered, as he kissed him.

 

After lunch, it was time for Bard to leave.  Tilda took it better, because she knew her Da would come back, in two weeks, and she was anxious to get even better, so he could be surprised, again.

Once again, Bard said goodbye to the children in their chambers, and Thranduil walked with him, to the Main Doors, hugged his husband, and wished him safe journey.  “I am always saying goodbye to you.” he whispered.

“I know.  But just think how wonderful it is when we say ‘hello,’ again.”  Bard squeezed his hands.  “At least this time, we didn’t break any furniture.”

The Elvenking couldn’t help but laugh.  “Galion appreciates that; I am sure.”

“I can’t guarantee never to do it again, you know.” Bard growled.  “I’d go through our entire dining room set, just to see that look on your face, again.  Stars, you were a sight to see…”

“So were you, _Meleth nîn,_ but we must stop, now.”   Thranduil whispered into his ear. “Otherwise, you will have an uncomfortable ride.” 

“Aye, you’re right.”  Bard shrugged.  “I’ll send letters with the next wagon, love, and see you in two weeks.  Are you ready, Daeron?”

The Guard was standing a discreet distance away.  “I am, My Lord.”

“Enjoy yourself, Lieutenant.”  Thranduil gave him an encouraging smile.

 _“De athae, Hîr Vuin.”_  Daeron saluted his King, then went out to his horse.

After another hug, Bard went to Fînlossen, and with a smile and a wave, they all rode away. Thranduil stayed at the Main Doors, with his hand raised, until the wagon train was completely out of sight, sighing, before he went back into the Palace.

 

***************

 

When the high walls of Dale appeared in their sight, Daeron began to feel better. He missed this place, even though it was a ruin, when he left. 

“You’ll be pleased to see what we’ve finished in the past couple of months.”  Bard called over to him.

“I am excited to see it, My Lord.” 

The bells rang, announcing their approach, and Bard and his escort galloped ahead of the wagons, to enter the gates.

Daeron gasped, when he saw all the new houses, and buildings.  “This is wonderful!”

“Aye, that it is.  We’ve got a long way to go, but most everyone will have homes to go to when spring comes.  It will take a couple of years to be completely finished.”

Daeron couldn’t stop looking around.  “It begins to look like the Dale of old, My Lord.  I’m very happy for you.”

“I’m happy for you, too.  You’ll be living here, too, and I know how much you like this place.”

“I always have.”

They made their way to Great Hall, where Percy waited on the steps.  “Welcome home, My Lord.”  He bowed formally. 

“Thanks Pers.”  Bard got down from Fînlossen as a guard came to take him away.  “Daeron came along for a visit.”

“I see that.  Hello, Lieutenant!  How do you like what we’ve done, so far?”

“It is a marvel, Lord Percy.”

They went through the doors in the Hall, where the cooks were busy with the evening meal.

“Where is my cousin, do you know?”  Daeron asked Percy.

“Oh, he’ll be along, soon enough.  His crew is working on a building on the other side of town.  It’s a three-story unit with six apartments –“

Percy was interrupted by the sounds of loud barking, and soon, Bard was struggling to keep his balance, as Thangon’s paws were on his shoulders.

“Hey, Thangon!” Bard managed to spit out, as his face was smothered with dog kisses.  “All right, all right…  Get down, now.”

Daeron laughed at the sight, and went to scratch the big beast behind his ears.  “He is quite devoted.”

“He snores,” Bard shrugged. “but I think I’ll keep him.” 

Daeron stored his luggage in Bard’s study for now, and went to find Tauriel, who greeted him with a hug.

“How have you been?” she asked him, smiling.  “Come, I’ve got some wine in my room.”

They each took a chair in front of her fireplace, and her cat jumped onto Daeron’s knee, while she poured them each a drink.  “How have you been?” he asked, as he pet the grey tabby.

The Elleth handed him his cup, and sat opposite.  “I do not miss the Palace as much as I thought I would, which surprises me, although I miss the children and _Ada_ very much. What brings you here?”

“Lord Thranduil has decided I need a rest.” He smiled at her.

“ _Ada_ was right; you look pale, Daeron, and tired.”  She looked at him concerned.  “How long can you stay?  A week?”

“Two weeks.  I will return with Lord Bard, when he leaves, again.  Please, _Mellon nîn,_ do not worry about me. I expect you want to hear all about your sisters and your brother.”

Tauriel’s face lit up.  “Yes, please!”

So, over the next half hour, Daeron gave her a full account of each of them, but when he told her of Tilda’s surprise for her fathers, Tauriel put her hands over her mouth and squealed with delight.

“She’s walking?  She can _walk?”_

“She can take about five steps on her own, and last week, we put her on a horse and let her ride around the arena.  She did well, and the motion will help strengthen her hips and back.”

“It is the best news possible!  I have been so worried...”  Tauriel put her hand on her chest.  “Bard told me how you saved her life. I am glad to have the chance to thank you myself.”

He smiled.  “I am only a poor substitute, until their big sister can look after them, again.”

“DAERON!”  Turamarth bellowed, as he stood in Tauriel’s doorway, grinning.  “You’re here!”

He stood up and went over to give his cousin a hug.  “I am.  I missed your ugly face.”

“And I missed your ugly face.”  Turamarth winked at Tauriel, who rolled her eyes.

“Where is your bed?  My things are in Lord Bard’s study for now…”

“And that’s where they will stay.  He told us to set up in there for your visit.   Lord Bard will work out of his chambers while you are here, so we can catch up.”  Turamarth grinned. “Hurry up!” 

Tauriel offered to help get them settled, so soon, the room was all set up and the three of them had their supper in there, with lots of wine and gossip and laughter.  Daeron felt better already.

Late that night, when they were in their bunks, he told his cousin, his best friend, everything that was on his mind, and on his heart.

“Oh, I know.”  Turamarth said, casually.

“What do you mean, you know?” 

“I could tell, even before the Battle, there was something about that girl that stirred your heart.  She was bruised and battered, then, but she had the makings of a true beauty.  Am I right?”

Daeron lay there in the dark, and ran his hand over his face.  “She is the loveliest creature I have ever seen, Tur.” He sighed.  “She is my first thought when I wake up, and my last thought before I sleep.  No matter what I do, she is always there…”

“When did you know?”

“I felt drawn to her when I first met her.  I realized later she reminded me of...”

“What happened in Old Dale?”

  A pause. “Yes. And I do not understand, but I cannot help it.  I love her, and I am afraid.”

“Why?”

“Because it is… unlikely.  So much can go wrong, and it may not even be permitted.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“I cannot afford to have hope.  I cannot go through that again. You know what happened before...”

“I know.” Turamarth was somber for a few moments, then, “Enough!  Lord Thranduil sent you here to get some rest, and I will not allow you to become maudlin, or melancholy.  Besides, you will win in the end, no matter what happens.“

”I will?”

“If you don’t get to marry her,” Turamarth said, cheerfully. “you will end up with me!” 

 _“Ci orch 'waur.”_   Daeron threw his pillow at him. 

 _“Ae!”_ Turamarth laughed.  _“Naeg!”_ and threw his pillow back at him.  “If I am a dirty orc, then I pity _you._   Everyone knows I am better looking!”

 _“Ego!”_ Daeron muttered, with a smile, before he went to sleep.

 

 

**City of Dale, 26 th of March, 2942, T.A.**

The two weeks in Dale were spent in a flurry of activity, as both Turamarth and Tauriel made it their mission to make sure Daeron rested and had fun.  They wouldn’t let him work with the building crews with them, but whenever possible, they spent time with him, in the nearby forests.

Tauriel and Bard took him on a day trip to Erebor, and Bofur gave him a tour, while Bard met with the King Under the Mountain.  It was beautiful, and the Dwarves were pleased to hear such sincere praise.

“I can see now, why you always loved Dale,” Tauriel told him.  “I had never even met any Men or Dwarves before all of this, and I appreciate their unique gifts.  I enjoy life among Men, very much.”

“I do too.”

Daeron spent his evenings either at the gaming tables with the Dwarves, or playing darts with his Elven comrades.  He had brought several books that he’d been wanting to read, but never had the time.  He slept in during the mornings, and he and his cousin laughed their way through the evenings, whether they were out in the Great Hall, or alone in their room.

 

 

As he was helping to escort Bard back to the Palace, the King of Dale smiled at him.  “You, my friend, look much better.”

“I am, My Lord.” He smiled.  “I really am.”

And he was. 

Much of his melancholy had lifted, and whatever the future held for him, he was resolved to bear it.  He knew, for good or for ill, all would be revealed in the fullness of time, and should his love not be returned, he was resolved not to fall into bitterness.

 

***************

 

Bard had a wonderful visit with the children, and he was thrilled to see that Tilda’s progress picked up speed both physically and mentally, but she still tired easily, and struggled with proper names. 

The older children were doing well with their studies, and various activities, and Bain and Sigrid had made excellent grades on some recent exams. 

During Bard’s visit, the boys’ weapons class held a small tournament, and everyone cheered on Rhys, who won first place in Archery!  Someone else was there to cheer with them: Rhian!  She came with Indis, and of course, baby Darryn.

Rhian had visited the Royal Chambers several times, over the last few weeks, so she and Sigrid could work on their needlework, while all the rest of them fussed over the baby, as the boys played games.

 

 **The** **Woodland** **Realm** ; **29th** **of** **March** , **2942** **T**. **A**.

The evening after Bard returned to Dale was spent in Thranduil's chambers.  Darryn was sitting on the lap of one of his favorite people - the Elvenking.  The baby always burped or passed gas, or spit up or wet his diaper, whenever Thranduil held him.  Tonight he messed in his diaper, and everyone but Galion was shocked to see the Elvenking calmly take him out to change him. 

“I can do that, My Lord –“  Rhian got up.

“Nonsense.  He is not the first child I have had to change, and he will not be the last,” said Elvenking, as he got up to look after him.  Go back to your knitting and enjoy yourself.”

When he returned, he sat down beside Tilda and shook his head at Darryn, who was very proud of himself. _“Adanneth_ _,_ why do you do such things to me?”

"You 'inspire' him, Ada." Sigrid teased.

"I'm flattered." Thranduil rolled his eyes.

Darryn just laughed and grabbed a handful of his hair to give it a good yank.  

“ _Naeg!_ Is that proper courtly behavior?”  

“You should braid your hair back, _Ada_.”  Tilda giggled, and helped him disengage his long blond locks.

“He does it because you’re a King, _Ada.”_   Sigrid smirked at him.  “He wants to impress you.”

Darryn seemed to agree, because he laughed and kicked his legs, as he noisily filled his diaper a second time.  Bain and Rhys thought that was _hysterical._

This time, Rhian insisted on taking care of it.

“I should bring him to you when he gets constipated, My Lord.” Rhian laughed and blew a raspberry into Darryn’s neck, before she went off to change him again.

Thranduil stared at her retreating back with amazement.  When he first met her, he’d never imagined her making such a playful joke!  Rhian barely resembled the pale, broken creature that nearly lost her life, three months ago. Now, she had roses in her cheeks, her eyes were bright, and her hair fell around her face in long shiny curls.

He turned and saw that Sigrid, Hilda and Galion were thinking the same thing.  Galion nodded his approval, and Hilda smiled and winked at him.

When she came back, he watched her chat with Sigrid, and by the firelight, he could see she was a stunning young woman.  Her brown hair was shining, and her light green eyes twinkled.  It wasn’t hard to see why Daeron was in love with her.

For the Elvenking, though he might appreciate her beauty, his heart belonged to a tall Bowman with wild black hair and warm eyes that made him think of his favorite trees.

Stars he missed his Bard…

~o0o~

 

Tilda grew stronger by the day. 

By the time Bard returned, two weeks later, She could walk from her bed to the living room by herself, if she used the walls and furniture to support her, which thrilled her Da and Ada to bits.

Despite all the Elves could do for her, Tilda’s illness had weakened her heart, and Daeron planned to closely watch her for the next several years.  She mustn’t become too exhausted or upset, as this could put a strain on her system, and impede her healing.  Her lungs would be sensitive for a very long time as well, and she will need to cover her mouth and nose whenever she was taken out of doors.

Otherwise, she was increasing in strength and stamina at a good pace, and he and Meriel felt that with a steady routine of strengthening exercises and a healthy diet, Gandalf’s prediction would come true; she would fully recover and be running around with the rest of the children, eventually. 

Recently, he’d given Tilda the best news of all: starting the next week, she could to join her classmates at school!   When Daeron gave her the good news, she squealed with excitement, as everyone around the lunch table clapped and cheered.

“Thank you!” She held her arms out to give Daeron a hug.  “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

“You have worked very hard, My Lady; you have earned it.” Daeron smiled down at her.  “But we must start slowly; only one hour per day, and we will increase it if you do not become too tired.  Meriel will come and sit beside you, to help you manage your pencils and things.  If she sees you becoming fatigued, she must bring you to back, to rest.  Do you promise not to argue with her about this?”

Tilda nodded her head.  “Ada made me pictures of everybody, so I can remember their names and everything!”  she waved her hands, and bounced in her wheelchair.  “I can’t wait!”

As promised, Thranduil had visited her class and made sketches, and with Miss Eryn’s help, he wrote down the name of each child.  He, Meriel and Tilda went over the drawings several times, until she knew them by heart.

Thranduil watched Tilda with a full heart.  That terrible night, when she nearly died, still haunted him sometimes, and to see the excitement in his _Tithen Pen’s_ face, brought him joy. 

He got up and knelt by her wheelchair.  _“N'uir thiad gîn 'ell, gwennig.”_

 

**The City of Dale, 15 th of April; 2942, T.A.**

“Hey big boy, ready to get to work?  _Tule_ _̈!”_     Bard grabbed his coat and things and whistled at Thangon who wagged his tail, and leapt to his feet.

He was anxious to spend the day with the building crews.  After days on end of paperwork in his study, it was _wonderful_ to go out and work with his men, and get his hands dirty!  Manual labor helped him feel connected with his city, with the future they were all working to create. 

Every letter Bard received with news of Tilda’s progress warmed his heart: just this week, she began to attend school, part time!   He was just proud of his older two, who had begun to master Sindarin and many other subjects Bard couldn’t begin to understand.

Life was good, and life in Dale was going to be better than any of his people had ever hoped for.

A late-season cold front had rolled in, causing some snowfall, and freezing temperatures.  Thranduil had predicted a long, harsh winter, so no one was that surprised, and no matter what it was outside, everyone felt excited that spring would eventually come, in the North.

There was good news for Alun, as well.  His letters were still being vetted by his mother’s caretaker, but he was assured that his correspondence with his mother offered the poor woman the hope she needed to go on.  Ina would remain at Thranduil’s Palace, indefinitely, and Thranduil offered her a permanent home with the Elves, if she wanted it.

There was still a lot of work to be done, but the end was in sight; soon Dale would be ready to receive its people.  Once the heavy rains were over, and the roads dried up, wagons could travel safely with the loads of Dale’s most precious cargo. 

Weeks… in a matter of weeks, he would see his children _every day_ ; not just every fortnight.  Best of all, he and Thranduil would sleep in the same bed, every single night…

Every. Single. Night. 

Those short, visits were wonderful, as opposed to months apart, but enough was enough.  He needed his children, and needed his Elf.  Bard smiled to himself, as he looked around his bedchamber.  Soon, his husband would be here with him, and his children would be back in their rooms down the corridor. 

It was all coming together.

He grabbed his leather gloves, left his room and found Tauriel waiting for him in the corridor. 

“Good morning, Bard!”

“Same to you, love.  Are you ready?”

“Yes.  Just let me get my coat.  I am looking forward to a day out of doors.”

“Oh, me, too.  I don’t care how cold it is; if I have to look at one more list of supplies, I’ll go mad.”  He pulled on his green knitted cap that Sigrid had made him, and out they went.

They left the Great Hall, and chatted and laughed along the way.  Thangon ran ahead of them, pouncing in the snow, like a clown.  He stopped and rolled in it, then raised his rump in the air, and wagged his tail, ready to play.  Bard made some snowballs and threw them for the dog to catch, and they both laughed at Thangon when they exploded on his head.

“Come along, you goofball; we’ve got to get to work.  _Tule_ _̈!”_

“Good morning, Ben!”  Bard saw the man over by the barbican at the Eastern Wall, and gave him a wave.  The man was standing with his assistant and they were looking up and watching the Dwarves pull up a block of stone with several ropes and pulleys to place it on the very top.

Bard went and stood beside him, and shaded his eyes from the morning sun and watched the progress.  “Ulmo’s balls… that’s high.”

“Aye, I know it.”   Ben said.  “But we’ve got to get this done, as soon as possible.  Doesn’t do much good to have all the houses ready, if we don’t have a good way of watching out for them.  Once the weather gets warmer, all kinds of things will come out of hiding, and we’ve got to see them coming.”

“No; I agree with you. The Dwarves seem to enjoy themselves up there, don’t they?”

“That they do.  The Elves like it, too.  Ben said, as they both watched the one named Bifur bark out orders to pull in rhythm to raise the gigantic block of stone.  The tower was almost finished.  All that was left after this last row, was to bring up and place the battlements.  Those were stacked in a pile nearby.

They stood and chatted for a few moments, enjoying the sunshine, when Thangon began to bark up at the Dwarves. 

“Thangon!  They know what they’re doing; stop distracting them!” Bard grinned.  “Sorry Ben; looks like my boss wants me to get to work.”  Thangon was grabbing at Bard’s sleeve, trying to pull him away.  “All right; all right, buddy.”

Bard turned to walk away, but remembered something. 

“Hey Ben!  Can we get together before dinner?  I’d like to go over – Thangon, will you shut up?”

Thangon was barking in earnest and backed up several yards. 

“Bard –“  he vaguely heard Tauriel’s voice and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her reach her arm out--

“What the _bloody fuck –“_

“Bard!”  He heard Tauriel scream, as she dove at him.  _“Tirio!”_  

At that same instant Bard felt Thangon’s full weight as the big dog threw himself at him, and knocked him to the ground.

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Mallen Ant_ – Golden Gift (Glélindë’s pet name for Dafina

 _De athae, Hîr vuin_ – Thank you, My Lord.

 _Gi melin, Thranduil; uireb_ – I love you Thranduil; always.

 _Ci orch 'waur!_ – You are a dirty orc

 _Ego!_ – Fuck off

 _Ae!_ – Hey!

 _N'uir thiad gîn 'ell, gwennig._ – Ever is your presence a joy, my little maid.

 _Adanneth_ – Young man

 _Tule_ _̈_ \- “Come” command for Thangon (Quenya)

 _Tirio!_ – Look out!

NOTES:

The passage, _‘I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.’_  came from Faramir; The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Chapter 5 “The Window on the West.”

Thank you to this website once again, for help with my Sindarin:  https://realelvish.net/phrasebooks/sindarin/doriath/#top


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and family are enjoying their breakfast, then something happens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still without my laptop, which is currently a patient at a techno-hospital in Texas. While I am thankful to have access to a desktop, it is old, with creaking joints and likes to cough and sputter, so if I've missed a typo or something, please be patient.
> 
> The official name for my laptop is "Bailey's Chew Toy" and if anyone is interested in send him a get-well card, let me know...

 

 

 

**The Woodland Realm; 15 th of April, 2942, T.A.**

 

“Good morning, children!”  Thranduil said, as he came to the dining room, still buttoning his robes at the shoulder.

“Hi, Ada!”  Tilda smiled.  I did most of my buttons myself this morning.  Sigrid only had to help me a little bit!”

Thranduil kissed the top of her head.  “That is indeed wonderful news, _Tithen Pen._   Make sure you show your Da when he comes.  Boys, are you ready for your maths test?  It is today, is it not?”

“Aye,” Bain said.  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I’m not, but I studied till my eyes got tired.”  Rhys added.  “I hate maths.”

“I like it right enough.”  Bain said, as he buttered his bread.  “It’s writing I’m not crazy about.”

“Oh, I love writing!” Sigrid said. “Especially when we practice Tengwar.”

“Me, too!”  Added Tilda. “It’s like drawing pictures.”

“Well, Galion keeps telling me my handwriting looks like a spider web.”  Bain rolled his eyes. 

“At least you’re good at spelling.” Tilda told him. 

“Maybe so, but he says it doesn’t count, if no one can read it.”

“I’m afraid Galion is correct, Bain.  As a future King, your writing must be impeccable, and your cursive must be perfect.  I have told this to your father, too.  Any document you write will be seen as a reflection of your country and your leadership.”  Thranduil told him. 

“So he keeps telling me.”  The boy sighed.  “It’s not fair to judge someone like that.”

“No, it is not, Bain, but it happens, and you do not want to give outsiders any reason to cause you difficulty.  It's one of the hundreds of things a Royal must do well; they must hold themselves to the highest of standards, because they represent their people, everywhere they go.  Even your own people will look to all of you, to be an example."

"Even me?" Tilda looked at Thranduil curiously.

"Even you." The Elvenking smiled. "That is why we urge you to do your very best.  If you are happy with your efforts, it helps, when others criticize." 

"Oh, believe me," Hilda told them, "there's always going to be one or two who 'll have something to say, but Thranduil's right. Once you know in your heart you've done right, or at least your best, any nastiness can roll off your back."

“It seems to me,” Rhys considered.  “If someone is going to look down on us, they’ll find a reason, no matter what we do.”

“That is also correct.  But you do not need to help them, due to carelessness.”  Thranduil pointed out.

“I’m working on my writing,” Tilda piped up.  “Meriel and me do it all the time.”

“That’s ‘Meriel and _I,_ ’ and you’re getting better every day, Beanie.” Hilda put her arm around her.  To the boys, she said, “I know Sigrid will be in the Healing Halls this afternoon.  Where will you two be?”

“Daeron wants to take our class out and show us some things in the forest.  He says it’s easier to learn different footprints for tracking that way.”

“Lieutenant Daeron is correct.  It is how I first learned, with my father.  He will also show you signs clues the leave on the trees and bushes.  Tracking is an essential military skill.”

“I can’t believe we have snow in April!   Last week, we just needed a sweater, and the next thing you know, it’s back to mittens and scarves!”  Hilda sighed.  “Speaking of which, Bain, make sure you get those mittens with the hole in them to me, so I can mend them.  Do you have your blue pair?”

“Yes, Auntie Hil.”

“What about you, Rhys?  Do you have anything that needs mending?”

“No, My Lady, but…” Rhys winced.  “I can’t find my scarf.”

“Again?  Is it under your bed?”

“That was the first place I looked.  It isn’t in my wardrobe, either.  I think it might have fallen out of the sleeve I put it in, when we hung up our coats in the barn.”

“I don’t doubt it.  Never mind; I’ve got some extras.” Hilda turned to Tilda.  “So, what exciting things do you have planned this afternoon, Little Bean?”

“After my nap, my friend Anna is coming to play!”  Tilda said, with a smile. “She’s gonna bring her dolls, and we’ll have a tea party.”

“I like Anna.”  Sigrid finished her tea.  “Her sister Gwen is in my class.”

Thranduil looked out the window by the balcony.  “It is cold, but sunny, and the snow is not terribly deep.”  He turned to Tilda, “If your friend Anna brings warm clothing, perhaps I will take you both out in the Garden for a little while.”

“It would,” Hilda agreed, “but don’t forget to keep your nose and mouth tucked inside your scarf, lovey.”

“I will!  When I see Anna in class, I’ll tell her to get her wraps.   Thank you, _Ada.”_

“You are welcome, _Tithen pen._   We will take a bit of a walk in the Garden; the sunshine will do you good.”

Bain and Rhys were talking about the big snowball fight they were planning by the barns, as Thranduil got up from the table. He picked up his cup of hot tea, to take to work with him, and was just about to wish the children good day, when he gasped, and grabbed his chest. 

Thranduil felt a sudden rush of pressure flow through his body, knocking the wind out of him.   His left leg buckled underneath him, and  he grabbed the sideboard to prevent himself from falling.  His teacup loudly crashed to the floor, as he closed his eyes and gasped again, hanging onto the sideboard to keep him upright. 

 _“ADA!”_ Sigrid flew out of her chair and rushed to him, holding him steady.  “What’s wrong?  What is it?” 

Thranduil couldn’t tell her.  He didn’t understand himself. 

Hilda grabbed his other arm and they led him back to his chair, keeping her voice calm, to ease everyone’s panic.

“All right, all right…sit you back down, Thranduil, and stay there.  Sigrid, go get Elénaril; _right now._   Galion,” she addressed the Steward, who rushed in at Sigrid’s shout, “how about something to clean the mess up?  You three,” she pointed at Bain, Rhys and Tilda, “will be late for school, if you don’t get a move on.  Your _Ada_ probably ate something that didn’t agree with him.  If it’s something serious, I’ll send for you, but I’m sure this is nothing.”

Bain wasn’t convinced.  “Are you sure?”

“Remember how you get when you eat anything with sage?  Makes you sick as a dog, doesn't it?  Your _Ada_ probably ate something like that, but we’ll get him checked out be sure, then he’ll be off to work, all right, love?  There’s no sense worrying until there’s a reason to.”   

Hilda put her hands on her hips.  Now, I don’t want you saying _anything_ about this to the other kids.  Rumors could get out of hand, and the whole palace could get upset over nothing.  Get it?”

Tilda smiled, “Got it!”

Hilda smiled at her. “Good!  Bain, push your sister’s chair; Meriel can meet you on the way.  Now, give us a kiss, and be off with you.” 

“I hope your tummy feels better, _Ada!”_   Tilda called, as Bain wheeled her into the hall, and towards the school.

Galion finished cleaning up the mess returned to Thranduil’s side.

“How are you feeling now, My Lord?”

“I am not hurt, and I am breathing better.” Thranduil said, still dazed.  “I do not understand…”

Hilda shook her head.  “I don’t either; then again, I don’t know much about Elves.  Elénaril is on her way.” 

“I do not think I need to see her.” he weakly protested.  “I just need a moment…”

“You _will_ let her look at you, and I’ll hear no more about it.”  Hilda said firmly.  “You’re not to move until she gets here, do you understand?” She put her hands on her hips and dared him to stand up.  Galion crossed his arms, and nodded in agreement. 

Meekly, Thranduil stayed put. 

“Now,” she said, “Tell me _exactly_ what you felt and what happened.”

“I was feeling fine, when suddenly, there was this pressure in here,” he put his hand on chest, “then my leg was suddenly weakened,” he indicated his left leg. “There was a horrible fear, then nothing…”

As he said those words, the sickening realization came to him.  “Oh, no…”  he whispered.

“What?”

 He looked at Hilda and Galion in alarm.  “I do not think it was me.”  He started to rub his chest, and looked at his Aide in terror. “Galion, it was not me!”

Galion’s eyes widened in understanding.  Hilda was looking between them, confused.

“Are you sure, Thranduil?  Could it possibly be anything else?” Galion looked at him intensely, resting his hand on Hilda’s shoulder to try to calm her.

Elénaril rushed into the chamber, followed by Sigrid, who was on the verge of tears. 

Thranduil looked at Hilda with pleading eyes, and shook his head at her, ever so slightly.

The woman nodded, and went to Sigrid.  “Now, love, just get you to school.  I’m sure it’s nothing, and _Ada_ feels better already!  See?”

Thranduil turned and gave her a reassuring smile.  “I do not hurt, _Iellig,_ I just stumbled, but they are going to examine me to be sure.  Your Auntie Hil thinks it might be something I ate.  I promise, if there is something wrong with me, we will let you know.  Do you believe me?”

Daeron rushed in to the room and looked at all the worried faces. “The children are in class, My Lord.  Bain told me what happened.  Can I help?”

Sigrid’s lips trembled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with _Ada,”_ she told him.

Hilda hugged her and rubbed her back.  “We’ll get to the bottom of it, love.  Now, give him a kiss, and get to school. We’ll just make sure your _Ada_ is all right, so he can get to work.”

Daeron nodded to his King.  “I will escort her, and be right back.”

 Hilda kissed her forehead, and after Sigrid had kissed Thranduil and Galion on the cheeks, she left, not looking reassured at all.

Elénaril was looking the Elvenking over, checking his heart, and movements.  “I see nothing wrong, My Lord.  You look and sound fine.  I do not hear your body cry out anywhere.”

Thranduil didn’t look relieved.  In fact, he looked even more terrified.  “Galion, get my horse and an escort ready. I leave for Dale immediately.  I’m sure of it, now.”  He looked at Hilda.  “Something’s happened to Bard.  It was him.”

Hilda put her hands to her mouth in horror.

Elénaril raised her hands, and asked everyone in the room to be silent.  “I want you to still your mind, and look inward, please.”

After taking several deep breaths, while they waited.

“My Lord, is King Bard still with you?  Do you feel him?” Elénaril asked. 

“Yes, but this is Bard; I _know_ it, and I must go.” 

Galion left quickly to make arrangements.

Thranduil looked at Hilda. “You are very pale; Elénaril, please get Lady Hilda a chair.”

Elénaril rushed to help the woman sit down, took her hand.  “My Lady, has Lord Bard explained to you about Elven marriages?  I know you were told about his choice, and what it means for him, but do understand about bond-mates?”

Hilda looked at Thranduil, uncertain.  “What’s the rest of it?  You mean, there’s more?”

Thranduil turned to Elénaril.  “Would you be so kind as to explain to her fully?  She might understand then.  I must get ready, and get into my armor.  I need to leave immediately.” 

He ran into his dressing room and tore off his robes and grabbed his black and silver tunic and leather leggings.   Galion ran in a few minutes later and began to take his armor off its stand and made ready to fasten his chest pieces on.  Once done, his other coverings and cloak were fastened then Galion made to put his battle-crown on.

“Please; I do not need this.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am not a King, now.  I am a husband.  Please just pack it with the rest of my things.”

Galion understood, and quickly took care of it.

Once all was made ready, he went back out to the dining area, where Elénaril was checking Hilda’s pulse, and making her drink a glass of water.

Thranduil put his arm around Hilda’s shoulders.  “I will send word, as soon as possible.  You must explain to the children that I left; I know this, but they _must not know_ that Bard is immortal.  I do not know what you should say to them, if Bard is possibly hurt -“  Thranduil’s voice broke, and he couldn’t say more. 

Instantly, Hilda’s arms were around him and they held each other tight, in fear.  She was so much shorter, that her head barely reached his chest.  She might be small, but she loved their family with a ferocity that matched his own, and he adored her for it.

Thranduil hugged her tightly to him and put his chin on the top of her head.  “Try not to alarm the children unnecessarily, as hard as it might be.  Tilda’s heart is still weak, and we must protect her.”

“I know, love.  We’ll do our best.  Hilda pulled away, and looked up at Thranduil, and tried to keep her voice strong and steady. “Just get to our Bard, and do whatever you have to.  Those kids can’t lose him.”  Her lips trembled.  “I can’t either.”

Thranduil brought both of her hands to his mouth, and kissed them, whispering.  “I promise to do whatever is necessary.”

Daeron came dashing back, and was quickly apprised of the situation.  “Shall I go with you to Dale, My Lord?”

Thranduil shook his head.  “No.  If you came, the children would _know_ something is wrong.  I need you here, to help Galion and Hilda keep everyone in their normal routine, until we know for certain they should be told.”  He took the Guard’s shoulders in his hands, and said, “I know my family will be safer with you here, and they all will need your support.  Help with the children, and do your best to keep everyone calm; they have been through much, these past months, and we cannot allow our _Tithen Pen_ could have a setback.” His voice wavered slightly.  _“Di leithiathodh?”_

 _“Nidhin di meriathon.”_   The Guard vowed.  “I will not fail you, _Aran Nin.”_

Thranduil looked at him gratefully.  “Thank you, _Mellon nîn_.  Please go and make sure my escort is ready in ten minutes.”

Daeron nodded, then saluted and left to see it done.

Soon, it was all arranged.  The children would be simply told Thranduil was called away to Dale to see Bard and Dáin about something (which wasn’t really a lie – if it was true Bard was hurt, Dáin would surely become involved.) and he would be back as soon as possible.  Hilda would temporarily move into Thranduil’s room to look after the children at night, and they would all work together to keep them calm and busy. 

“There is no time to say goodbye to the children,” Thranduil told Hilda, but the real reason why he avoided them was to prevent them from sensing his terror. 

Both Galion and Hilda understood this, without words, and nodded their agreement.

“I believe it is best if we keep the information to a minimum, for as long as possible.”  Galion told them.

“I agree.  I will not have them sitting here mired in worry.”  Thranduil said.  “There would be no point to it.  If Bard truly is injured, we can tell them when he is recovering.”

Galion took Hilda’s elbow.  “Come, My Lady. It is time.”

Hilda and Galion walked Thranduil to the Main Doors, when Hilda threw her arms around him.  “I love you very much, and no matter what happens, we’re family, and we’ll get through it _together,_ do you hear me?”

“Thank you,” he whispered.  “You are as a mother to me.”

“Ha!” she laughed, as she wiped her eyes with her white handkerchief.  “I’m sure your Mam didn’t yell at you, like I do.”

He grinned, and helped wipe the tears from her face.   “You remind me of her more often than you think, My Lady.”

When Thranduil threw his arms around his Aide, he whispered, “I am so frightened, Galion.”

“I know you are, but you will never have to face anything alone.” Galion told him quietly.  “Now go; with all our hopes and prayers.” He took the Elvenking’s face in his hands, and offered him an encouraging smile.  “You will do your best; I know this, _Ion-nauth ni_ _̂_ _n_.  We will be sending prayers for strength.”

Thranduil sighed and walked through the Main Doors.

The horses were ready, clad in thick leather armor over blankets to keep them warm. Their legs were wrapped to the knees in wool to protect them from the cold temperatures.  Thranduil, as an Elf, wouldn’t be bothered by the cold so much, and once they were moving, the horses wouldn’t be so either, but they needed protection if they had to stop.

He mounted _Naurmôr,_ his black stallion, with such haste and worry, that the huge horse reared up, anxious to go, and they were off.  The other Elves gently spoke to their horses, asking for haste, and the beasts complied, as they loved their riders, and felt the urgency. 

Along the way, Thranduil couldn’t stop images running through his mind:  Mírelen, staring at him as her eyes dulled, and remembered that horrible severing in his heart when her _fëa_ fell silent as she left to go to Mandos.  He couldn’t stop thinking of agonizing vacuum inside him, when she left.  It was a black, cold space inside of him that ached to be filled, but there was nothing that could help.   Worse, he couldn’t stop thinking of the years he’d spent, struggling to simply stay on Middle Earth.

This couldn’t be happening; he had _just_ come back to life!  He had just found love and healing and now, could it be snatched away, again?  What a cruelty!

About an hour into the trip, they saw one of King Dáin’s Ravens swoop low and call loudly, before it continued its journey to the Palace.  Thranduil’s heart leapt into his throat, and he couldn’t stop the strangled cry that came from him when he saw it. 

So, it was true.  Something terrible had happened to his Bard. 

_Oh no…  Oh, please…  Please…_

 

Just over two-thirds of the way to Dale, they met a unit of Elven riders from Dale.  He didn’t stop but quickly shouted an order to turn around and give him the news on the way.

Bard was headed to a building site to work this morning, they said.  He stopped by the Eastern wall to speak with Old Ben, when a large stone block that was being lifted to the top of the watch tower had fallen.  The rope in one of the pullies came off track, cutting into it and causing the rope to suddenly snap.  Bard was not underneath the stone when it fell, but the huge block somehow bounced and knocked into a stack of stones the same size, sitting on the ground, causing it to topple over, crushing his leg. 

He had been immediately taken to his chambers, where the Healers were frantically trying to save him.  The King of Dale was screaming in pain, and crying out for Thranduil, before the Healer mercifully put him under a _losta-luith,_ sending him to sleep, and temporary oblivion, while they worked on him.

Thranduil’s heart was in his throat, and he didn’t try to check the tears running off his chin. 

He couldn’t lose him.  He just couldn’t. 

Not after losing Mirelen. Not after almost a thousand years of agony and emptiness, after finally learning to open his heart, to love again...  _No!_   It was too cruel. 

Thranduil sent up a frantic prayer to the Valar, to Eru, even to Mithrandir, in case the Wizard could hear him.  _Please, save him. Please…   I cannot let it happen again…  I have to get to him in time, please…_   _I have to!_   _I beg you with everything in me…_

 _Naurmôr_ sensed his pain and urgency, took off and ran at a full gallop, going faster than Thranduil thought possible.  _Thank you, my friend,_ he spoke to the horse in Quenya, offering a prayer to give the horse strength and stamina, as he let go of the reins and gave him his head, knowing this horse would not let him fall.  The others struggled to keep up, but he would not slow down until he was by his Bowman’s side.  Thranduil’s heart continued to pound in fear, his breath gasping the icy air. 

“My Lord?  Are you well?”

Feren’s Lieutenant managed to make it up to his right side, still at a full run.  He looked at the King in concern.

“I will be fine when I reach the King of Dale.”

“Please, My Lord.  I must speak to you.  Please!”

Thranduil slowed his horse, but did not stop.

“Speak.”

“Forgive me, My King, if I speak out of turn.  I do not know the extent of your bond, but you might be able to help him, even now.  I understand your fear, but if your _fëa_ is joined with King Bard’s, I am afraid that your panic could affect him.  If I can sense your fear and dread, and he could, as well; especially as we grow closer.”

Thranduil looked over at him, shocked at the Elf’s words, then supremely grateful.  He was right.  He needed calm himself, and he needed to send Bard strength.  He could do that.  He could help his Bowman, even now. 

 _Thank you…_ The Valar _had_ heard his pleas, and sent him some help. 

The Elvenking turned to the Lieutenant.  “I thank you for speaking up.  This might help to save King Bard’s life, and I am in your debt.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”  The rider fell back to leave Thranduil alone with his thoughts.

Forcing himself to let go of the fear, he made himself breathe deeply.  He centered himself, forcing his heart to calm and beat slower and stronger.  He pictured Bard, strong, healthy, and whole.  Full of life, laughing.  Pictured Bard beneath him, as they joined for the first time, seeing the joy and ecstasy on his face; the love in his eyes, looking into each other’s souls.  He pictured Bard with his children, seeing how tenderly and proudly he looked at them.  Whatever happened when he reached his bedside, he would deal with then, but for now, he thought and meditated on love, on strength, on family, in hopes that the one Bard might feel him. 

He could do this.  He was the most powerful Elf in the Northern Realms, and he could do this for his husband, whom he loved more than his own life.  He heard, behind him, the Elves singing, adding their song’s power to his, and he hoped that all the Elves in Dale were doing the same thing.

 

***************

 

Moments before Bard’s accident, Thangon began to bark at his master with increasing worry.  He had heard the odd squeak of the pulley lifting the stone block and odd strain of the rope, and knew something _bad_ was about to happen.  Bard was too, too close, and he had to move his master away!  He grabbed Bard’s sleeve and tried to pull him away, but Bard ignored him, then ordered him be quiet, while he spoke to Old Ben. 

Finally, Thangon backed up several yards, and ran at Bard using every ounce of speed and power he possessed, and rammed his beloved master, to get him out of the way, just as the rope snapped, as the great stone fell, as the stack toppled over, as the topmost block headed straight for Bard’s head. 

The impact of their bodies sent Thangon flying, and he landed on his side with a yelp. The dog had managed to push most of Bard away, but not quite enough, and the stone block crushed his master’s upper leg.

As Bard lay there, screaming in agony, everyone rushed forward to remove the block, then someone removed his belt and got a tourniquet around the top of Bard’s thigh to stay the rapid flow of blood coming from him. Others threw off their coats, and removed their tunics to wrap around his wound, as tight as they could to absorb what blood still flowed, despite their efforts.

Thangon sat nearby and howled in misery, as they worked at the scene.  As soon as a litter was brought to carry him, the dog insisted on walking near him.  He whined and frantically licked Bard’s face, as they quickly brought him through the streets and into the Great Hall.  They needed him to remain conscious, and Thangon knew it, although Bard’s screams of agony tore at the giant dog’s heart. 

At last, they made it to Bard’s big bedroom, and the Chief Healer had them put the litter right on top of the bed.  He couldn’t risk Bard being moved, until they knew the extent of his injuries.  The entire time they were examining him, Bard cried and screamed and called out for his husband, and his children, and Thangon whined in desolation.  

At first, they tried to keep the dog out of the room, but Thangon kept throwing himself at the thick door, until the Healer relented, afraid the dog would injure himself.  Once in the room. Thangon stationed himself on the floor, by the bottom of the bed, out of the way.  He never took his eyes off Bard and whined, every time he heard Bard scream.   

 

***************

At long last, Thranduil and his troops saw the City Wall, and he heard the horns signal his approach.  His stallion did not slow, did not tire, did not fail him.  He heard the shouts, “Open the gates!  The King of the Woodland Realm approaches!  Clear the road!  The King approaches!  Clear the road!”

With his long, blonde hair flying, Thranduil raced through the Gates, followed by the others, and _still_ his beloved horse did not stop until he was at the doors to the Great Hall.  Swiftly he leapt down, landing on the balls of his feet and broke into a run, as the doors opened for him, and he didn’t stop until he was in front of the door of their bedchamber.  There he stood for an instant, raised shaking hand to the doorknob.  He became afraid again.

He heard a gasp, then, _“Ada?”_ There was Tauriel, and the other end of the corridor and her were eyes red-rimmed, from crying.

 

***************

 

As soon as word of the accident reached Erebor, King Dáin had rushed to Dale with his Guard, and a Raven was dispatched immediately, to fetch Thranduil.  Just to be sure, he told Feren to send an escort to the Woodland Realm, to fetch him.

“I ken the Elf’ll have rider’s with ‘im, but I’m no’ willin’ to take a chance.”

“I agree.”  Feren said, and the escort was dispatched, within minutes. 

Everyone was anxiously huddled in the Great Hall, when they heard the shouts from the Western Gate.  Dáin stood when the doors to the Great Hall slammed open, and all the Elves stood at attention, as Thranduil ran in, with a terrified look on his face.

"The lad's back in 'is bed, Thranduil." Dáin ran over and to the Elvenking.  "Don' know 'ow ye got 'ere so early - but we're glad the see ye."

Thranduil said nothing, just gave the King Under the Mountain a quick nod, then ran through the center aisle at top speed and disappeared into the back passage.

“Go on, lassie.”  Dáin said to Tauriel, who slumped against him in relief.  “Help yer Dad get out o’ his armor.”  He gave her shoulder a squeeze and said gently.  “We’ll be awaitin’ and aprayin’ out here.  Go on, wit’ ye.”

Tauriel looked at him with teary eyes, then ran after the Elvenking.

Dáin turned to his Dwarven Aide, he commanded. “Fetch some ale, from the Mountain, and ‘ave Bombur an’ some others come te get some food an’ drinks agoin’ out here.  These Dale folks need lookin’ after, till we ken what’s doin’.”

The King Under the Mountain knew it was going to be a long, long night.

 

 

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Di leithiathodh?_ – Would you please protect them?

 _Nidhin di meriathon_ \- I will protect them

 _Aran Nin_ \- My King

 _Ion-nauth ni_ _̂_ _n_ – Son of my heart

 _Naurmôr_ – Black Fire


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil has arrived in Dale to try to save his Bowman, no matter what the cost.
> 
> Even if it means the ultimate sacrifice.

 

_“ADA!”_   Tauriel ran up to Thranduil and threw her arms around him, sobbing.  “I _knew_ you would come!”  Then she took him by the hand, _“Hortho!”_ and quickly pulled him into her room, to help him out of his armor and his outer clothing. 

As they did so, Tauriel tried to tell him what happened in a shaky voice.  “We were on our way to the h-house they were working on, and we s-stopped to talk to Old Ben…”  She wiped her eyes, as she helped him with all his buckles.  “A stone block fell on his leg.  I didn’t even have t-time to…” he voice caught.  “I heard the rope s-snap.  It happened so fast; I couldn’t get to him in time! I’m so sorry.  I’m sorry…”  She began to weep.  “I d-didn’t get there in time to save him!  I should have protected him!”she sobbed.  “I was just a second too late… I’m so s-sorry!”

Thranduil’s body swayed at those words, and he had to grab a bedpost, to steady himself, as he heard a loud rushing in his ears.  Those had been his exact thoughts, when his wife died. 

Tauriel grabbed his arm and began to take off his vambraces, as she continued to tell him what happened.  “The dog saved his life.  Thangon jumped at Bard and knocked him out of the way, just as the top stone fell; how he was not killed himself, I do not know…”

The Elvenking took a couple of deep breaths.  “I must know what his condition is, _Gwinïg._ Please, tell me everything,”

“His leg has been crushed, and a piece of bone nicked an artery.  He is in a healing sleep, now, to keep him still.  They managed to slow the bleeding, but they are focused on Bard’s heart, to keep it working.  He’s lost so much blood, and… the Healer said he needs more than we can give him.  I do not know if he will live…”  She began to sob.  _“Goheno nin, Ada.  Gin iallon, díheno nin!”_

“Shh…shh…” He kissed his daughter’s brow, again, as the last piece of armor fell to the floor.  “Thank you, _Gwinïg.”_ He squeezed her hands, before they rushed to Bard’s door.  This time, his hand didn’t hesitate, when he turned the knob.

The Chief Healer looked up from the bedside at Thranduil, wide-eyed, as if a miracle had occurred.  “I do not know what caused you to come so soon, My Lord, but I thank the Valar you did.  He is almost beyond any of us.”

Percy was sitting in a chair, holding Bard’s hand, staring open-mouthed at the sight of the disheveled Elvenking.

“What does he need?” Thranduil snapped, terrified he was too late.  “Tell me, quickly.”

 _“You,_ my Lord.  He needs his bond-mate. _Now._ Are you fatigued?”

“Do you have time for me to rest?”

“No.  You are right.”  The Healer turned to Percy, “Lord Percy, please bring Feren in quickly.  When he is here, I am going to have to ask you to step out, as we will need to concentrate.  We cannot be interrupted for _any reason._   You and the guards make sure _no one_ comes in that corridor or makes _any_ noise.  Do you understand?” Then to Tauriel.  “You may stay, but only if you can be calm.”

The Elf nodded, determined.

Percy took off to get Feren, who arrived less than a minute later, and the door was closed to the bedroom and locked.

During all of this, Thranduil was unaware of anything but his Bowman’s pale, pale face.  He almost didn’t recognize Bard!  He took in the swath of bloody bandages on his leg, and the enormous stain of blood on the mattress.  He had never seen that much blood before, except when Mírelen bled out all over him… 

No.  Stop.  He blew out some short breaths, forcing his mind to the here and now. 

A hand touched him on the back.  “We must begin, My Lord by completely closing the cut in his artery.  There are pieces of shattered bone in the way, so they must be moved into place, before we can seal it.   His main organs must be kept functioning, and that is my main worry, as he has lost so much blood, but until we can correct his bones, we cannot be sure that is the only place from which he is bleeding.  You will see when you touch him.”  The Healer and Tauriel poured boiling water from a kettle hanging over the fire, and poured them into bowls, adding _Athelas._

“Let us begin, My Lord.”

Thranduil forced his eyes away from Bard’s face and centered himself again bent down and placed his hands over the top of Bard’s thigh, gently.  He closed his eyes and concentrated. No.  He was up too high.  He slowly moved his hands down, seeing the mess that his bones once were.  Where is it?  He listened to Bard’s body, asking where the biggest danger was, but there was too much hurt, too much pain, even in a deep slumber, there were too many cries, coming from so many places.

Now he knew why the Chief Healer couldn’t pinpoint the tear in the artery.    He drew on more of his power to drown out the “noise” and searched very carefully.  Soon, he saw.  It was a nick, with a shred of bone still in the artery.  Bard was only alive now, because of the quick application of the tourniquet, and the Healers’ attempts to seal the wound, and slow the bleeding.   Even so, he could sense Bard had minutes left, possibly seconds, before it would be too late.

“It is here.  I need help to move the bones.” Thranduil whispered.  He felt the Healer’s hands next to his.  “No, put your hands atop mine, but do not press down.” 

Once done, they combined their power to pull out the bone and seal the artery, stopping the bleeding.   They both inhaled deeply and began to sing, as they slowly moved the splinters of bone into place and held them there, until they began to grow together, near the site of the arterial damage. 

All these bone fragments around the wound must be knitted fully, and with precision, or the slightest movement of them could make him bleed again. 

Suddenly, Bard’s heart faltered into an erratic and rapid rhythm. Thranduil quickly removed his hands from the leg and placed his hands on his chest.  He sang gently to the heart, urging it to slow down, and he gave much of his own strength, to keep it beating.  It didn’t matter how well they could set his leg, if this was all too much for his heart.  He urged Bard’s lungs to take deep breaths. Yes…That was it….

Once Bard’s organs calmed, he and the Healer returned to Bard’s shattered thigh. This was so much more work than healing one broken rib!  Months ago, when he and Bard worked together to repair the jagged rib in Rhian’s chest, it was difficult and exhausting – and that was just one break.  This felt endless, as they looked for every splinter, every crack. 

Again, Bard’s heart faltered, and, again, he moved his hands up, to keep it going. 

By silent agreement, he kept his concentration there, while the Healer and his assistant continued to work on the leg, and Feren and Tauriel were doing their best to help wherever they were needed most.  Bard’s body was still crying out from all the pieces of bone the other Elves were putting into place, as quickly as they could.

 

For a long time, Thranduil was the only thing preventing his heart from stopping altogether.  He urged on its every beat, told his lungs when to take in deep breaths of air.   He couldn’t stop his efforts for even a second: if he paused, or even faltered, Bard was dead. 

He was beginning to tire, but he kept up his efforts to keep Bard going.  He felt his glamour fall, and it hurt terribly, but Bard was still in danger, and he would not, _could not,_ stop. 

Feren felt Thranduil’s power flagging, and stepped to the other side of him, and laid his hands over the Elvenking’s. 

 _“Gi nathathon, Mellon nîn; Gi nathathon…”_ Feren whispered, encouraging both Thranduil and Bard.  Thranduil kept on, until his hands and body were shaking.  Salty tears stung the wounds on his face, yet he didn’t waver.

Bard’s heart rhythm became erratic, and threatened to stop, yet again.  Feren, the Healer, and Thranduil heard it and felt it, and all three sent even more energy to it, to calm and strengthen.

 _“De nathathog… de nestathodh…”_ he begged the Valar.  _Please help him…  please heal him…_  

Finally, _finally,_ the heart began to beat in a steady, if weak rhythm, again.  After several minutes, his heart still maintained its pace, but it was still unpredictable…

 

***************

 

The Chief Healer was very worried, because now, he had _two_ patients in grave danger.

Even if they completely set the leg around the artery, the Healer could see that the loss of blood could stop Bard’s heart at any time; it was working too hard to keep beating. 

They had done all they could for Bard.  Elven magic had reached its limit, and Bard was in the hands of Eru Ilúvitar and the Valar, now.

He also knew the Elvenking had to stop _now,_ regardless of their success with Bard, or his own life would be lost.  He fully understood the consequences for Thranduil, should Bard die, but he could not, in all good conscience, stand by, and allow his beloved King to kill himself, when it might not do any good.

Never had he seen an Elf give so much and survive.  Thranduil was more powerful than any of them, but even _he_ was far beyond his limit, and now the Healer had to save his King, if he still could…

“My Lord?”  The Healer gently put his hand on Thranduil’s wrist.  “You must stop, now…”

 

***************

 

Out in the Great Hall, all they could do was wait.  Bombur came over and with the cooks, made sure there was plenty of strong tea on hand, and food to snack on, while they paced, and worried.  Hours before, several volunteers and scrubbed and scrubbed, until every trace of blood was gone from the floors, and from the stone streets outside. 

Many of the Men and Elves went back out to work, because they couldn’t stand being helpless.  “Beggin’ your pardon, My Lord,” one man told Dáin and Percy.  “We’d feel better pounding nails; it gives us something to think on, and we don’t want to let Lord Bard down, by lettin’ the work slag off.  He’d want us to keep it up.”

“Aye, that’s good thinking,” Percy nodded.  “Lord Bard would want that.”

There was still no word, at suppertime, and into the evening.  The Dwarves served them all supper and brought out some wine and ale.   Feren’s Captain asked Bofur and a few others set up in the corner, and played soft, soothing music to help keep those waiting as calm as possible. 

“It will help those who are healing Lord Bard, if we can send them strength,” the Elf explained.

Dáin retained his outward appearance of calm and confidence.  He didn’t let any of his terrible worry show, not just for Bard, but for the North.  Everything they were trying to accomplish here, was balanced on the edge of a knife, and if one King fell... 

It felt morbid to be planning ahead as if Bard was already dead, but it had to be done.  Bain would make a good King, but he was just a young boy.  If the worst were to happen, Thranduil would act as regent, and they both would keep Dale safe, until the lad was ready to take over.

Once the wider world knew of the Kingdom’s vulnerability, Dáin was afraid they’d be constantly fending off attempts to conquer the Dale, and its surrounding areas.  It was energy and manpower nobody had to spare, right now.  Too much depended on getting the economies of Erebor and Dale moving.

The Great Hall was a somber place, as he paced and waited for word.  Percy paced with him, looking like a ghost.  Alun had made sure the man ate and had a hot cup of tea in his hand, whenever he sat down.

Dáin clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder.  “They’re doin’ everythin’ they can, Percy.  We’ve got te believe it’s goin’ te be all right, yeah?”

 

***************

“Please, My Lord…  You have done all you can…”  The Healer urged the Elvenking.

“NO!”  Thranduil wouldn’t stop.  He couldn’t let another spouse die.  He couldn’t fail; he couldn’t lose yet another one he loved.  Bard _had_ to live.

“No… I can’t…”  Thranduil growled, through gritted teeth, as his trembling hands remained on his husband’s chest.  “I have to…”

The Elvenking heard Healer’s voice, whisper to him, “You must stop, now.  I am sorry, but you must.”  Gently, he took Thranduil’s hands and, with effort, pulled them away. 

Thranduil barely registered the voices.  His vision began to blur, and become fuzzy and grey, but he felt determined to save his husband.  Several times, Thranduil freed his wrists from the Healer’s grip, and placed his shaking hands back on his Bard. 

He couldn’t stop; Bard had to live!

“Feren, _quickly!_ ”  The Chief Healer’s frantic cry was heard.

Just as the Elvenking began to collapse, the Commander jumped forward and caught him, and barely managed to keep Thranduil from falling on Bard’s injured leg, which would have killed him.   

“Take care of him,” the Healer said, tersely.  “We will try to stabilize Lord Bard.”

Tauriel quickly ran around to the other side of the bed, and helped maneuver Thranduil, so Feren could pick him up, bridal-style.

“Put him in my bedroom.”  Tauriel said, with tears in her eyes, and she unlocked the door and opened it for him.

The Commander carried him into the hall, and into her bedroom, where he gently laid his King down.  He quickly removed his boots, and took off his belt, then arranged his pillows, before covering him with several blankets, to keep him warm.

Thranduil stirred for a moment and mouthed his husband’s name.  “Bard?” 

“We have done everything we can for him, _Mellon nîn,”_ Feren told him, as he tucked the blankets around him _._

The Elvenking felt himself float and drift, but managed to whisper his husband’s name, one last time, before he felt himself begin to sink into oblivion.

“Thranduil,” he heard Feren whisper, worriedly. “You have given too much.  Please, do not leave us,” he begged, “please!”

He felt his Commander kiss his hand, and the wet tears that fell, as Feren whispered. “You must live, _Mellon nin._   Please, stay with us…” and the sound of heartbreaking sobs filled the room.

Thranduil was very sorry for his friend’s pain, and hoped one day, Feren would forgive him this sacrifice.

 _It is Bard who must live…_ he thought.  _My Bowman must live…_ as the blackness took him, and he knew no more.

 

***************

 

Tauriel wiped her eyes as she watched Feren take her Ada away, and looked down at Bard.  She still struggled to wrap her head around all of this.  Just hours ago, she and Bard were laughing over their breakfast, and playing in the snow with Thangon… In the blink of an eye, her life was turned upside down, and its foundations were crumbling.

“Is there nothing more we can do?” she asked the Chief Healer.  She looked up at him with desperation. 

He sighed.  “I am afraid not, child.  He is alive, but barely, and I do not know if he will last.  He should have died hours ago, despite all Lord Thranduil was doing for him.”

“But Bard’s _different…_   We don’t know what will happen.”

“Tauriel,” he said patiently, “you are not wrong.  Bard is a unique creature now: no longer a man, yet not an Elf, and perhaps this is working to his advantage, right now.  I wish I knew what to tell you, or what to predict.”

Her heart squeezed.  “I do not know what to do; I need to go to _Ada,_ but Bard is…  What if I lose them both?  We just became a family…  I might lose my parents all over again and I will be alone!”  She buried her face in her hands and began to cry.

She felt a comforting arm around her shoulders, as she leaned on him for support.  “Come _hênig;_ my assistants will stay with Bard.  Feren is sitting with Thranduil; take a few minutes to collect yourself, while I go speak with Percy and the others.”

The Chief Healer helped her steady herself, and made to leave, but Tauriel wiped her eyes and stood straight.  “No.  I want to go with you.”

The Healer looked her over carefully.  “Are you sure?” 

“I am.” She nodded.  “You are just as exhausted and upset as I am; we will support each other.”

He sighed heavily, and agreed.  “Thank you.  I will never get used to giving families bad news, and this day… hurts deeply.” He put his fingers under her chin, and gave Tauriel a weak smile.  “We must all be ready to face whatever comes, and lean on each other.”

Tauriel took his arm, and together, they made their way down the corridor, and into the Great Hall, where utter silence reigned.

Percy, Ben, Alun and King Dáin were sitting at the first table, by the door, and they jumped up anxiously, as well as every other Man, Elf, and Dwarf there.

“Well?”  Dáin asked impatiently. 

“I am afraid Bard is in very critical condition, and it is not known, at this time, whether he will survive.  Frankly, it is a miracle he is alive at all, and that is mostly thanks to Lord Thranduil.”

The Healer then took a deep breath. “We have done everything possible for him, and we will continue to monitor him constantly.  We have closed the tear in the artery in his leg and fixed the bones around it so that it will not reopen, but we are not able to re-knit all the bone fragments; that requires more effort than even My King can accomplish.  If he can remain stable, _if he survives the night,_ we will enclose his leg in a stiff casting, to immobilize the limb and encourage the rest of the bone to heal. 

“Can you do that now?” Alun asked.

“No.  Bard has lost a tremendous amount of blood.  So much so, in fact, that his heart faltered three times.”  At these words, everyone in the Great Hall gasped, and Percy went white.  “Each time, King Thranduil managed to start it again, but with great difficulty.  _Any_ further stress on his system, such as shifting him around, will kill him.” The Chief Healer’s voice cracked, “I am so sorry we cannot do more.”

“So, we wait.” Percy’s voice was hoarse, and he had to grab the back of a chair.  “Oh, gods…”  Alun stepped over and put a hand on his back to steady him.

Tauriel and the Healer looked at each other, before he sighed, “There is more, I am afraid.” 

“What in Mordor do ye mean, ‘there’s more?’”  Dáin said warily.

The Chief Healer tried to keep his professional composure, but it was a tremendous struggle.  Tauriel took his hand and squeezed it, as she struggled with her own tears.   “King Thranduil worked a miracle to keep Bard alive, but he did so to his own detriment.  He has given away too much of his strength and stamina, to save his husband, and now –“  He choked up and had to stop and blink back tears.

“What happened?”

“My King has collapsed, and he is extremely frail.”  The Healer held his forehead.  “He may die, as well.”

“WHAT?” Dáin bellowed.  The King Under the Mountain was not prepared to hear something like that. “WHAT THE FECK HAPPENED IN THERE?” he demanded.

Feren’s Captain stood, “Where is Commander Feren?” he asked, with a horrified look on his face.

“He is sitting with King Thranduil, but he is in a weakened state from our efforts, and will need to rest very soon.  Tauriel also needs to sleep, but we have put Thranduil in her bed.”

The Captain stepped forward and turned to everyone in the Great Hall, and shouted out in Sindarin, “ _I want any Elf with a gift of Healing to step forward.  Now!”_  

As some of the Elves stepped toward the back of the Hall, he said to the Healer.  “I do not know if it would help, Master, but they might help keep Bard’s organs functioning, until his condition stabilizes.”

The Chief Healer shook his head.  “I do not know, either, but we must try everything.  I will need you to organize shifts, and I want someone’s hand on King Bard’s chest at all times, to closely monitor his heart, lungs and other vital organs.  We will need to feed him liquids using a hollow reed, as well.  I am going to arrange to have some brought to his bedside, and you must dip the reed in the water and such and use your finger to bring it to his mouth, a few drops a time.”

The Elves who had gathered around the Healer all nodded; they were familiar with this therapy, and they knew it would help keep Bard hydrated and stable, and help his body replace the blood that was lost.

“We will also sit with King Thranduil, so support him, as well.  It might help,” the Captain told him.

“It may.  If Lord Bard does not survive..."  he couldn't finish his sentence.

The Captain nodded, then turned and said to the Hall, in Westron, “We will begin a prayer vigil for our Kings’ recovery. Anyone present, is welcome to join in.”

“Thank you,” Percy said to the Captain, as he wiped his own eyes.  “This means a lot.”

Old Ben stepped over to the Steward of Dale, to offered what help he could.  “I’ll see to it, that anyone who can help, will have their shifts covered and make sure they get everything they need.”

King Dáin then stepped up, to speak with the Chief Healer.   “I’m sendin’ fer Oin, ta look after the rest of yer patients, while you’uns take care of those two.”  To Percy he said, “We’ll get some other Dwarves to take o’er the work of the ones who need to stay here.  Dunna worry ‘bout that; you go get yerself looked after."

Then the King Under the Mountain stood in a table and bellowed to everyone in the building.  “Listen up, an’ listen good!   Until those two are back on their feet, this Kingdom is under my protection, as is Lord Bain, the heir to Dale.  These lands will no’ be vulnerable to outsiders _at any point_ , is that understood?  _Anyone,_ near or far, with an idea o’ takin’ over Lord Bard’s Kingdom will be met with my sword personally!” 

Dáin addressed the Captain of the Elves.  “I’m sending fer Dwalin.  I want the guard doubled both here and the Mountain, and the roads watched in all directions, is that clear?  News like this travels faster than one o’ my Ravens, an’ we won’t take no chances.  Yer in charge o’ yer bunch, till the Commander can take over."

“Yes, My Lord.” And the soldier nodded his deference and saluted.

"I'm goin' to send a message to the Woodland Realm; I think they should tighten their borders."

"I agree My Lord.  In the absence of the King and Feren, the Royal Council is in charge, and Lord Galion will work with them to see it done."

“Good.”  Dain nodded back. “Dwalin will assign Dwarves to make up for yer lads who'll be busy with the Kings back there.”

“Yes, sir.  Thank you, My Lord.”  The Captain saluted and left to arrange the roster.

Alun put his hand on Percy’s shoulder.  “I’ll take over your duties, best I can; you need to go sit with Bard.  Don’t worry; we’ll take care of everything out here.  Go.”

Percy nodded gratefully, and made to leave, but not before the Healer cautioned.  “You may sit with him, but do not try to move _any_ part of him.  Speak softly and be encouraging.”

Percy indicated his agreement, then turned to Tauriel.  “We’ll do our best to get us all through this, yeah?  But you’re exhausted, so I’m going to put you in my room for now, to get some sleep." When she started to protest, he held his finger up.  "You’re dead on your feet, love.  We’ll set up a bed for you in Bard’s study to use later.”

“But,” she began to cry again.  “I need to –“

“I know, love.”  Percy gathered her to him and held her.  “We’re all scared, but you’re no good to anyone like this.  You’re weak and pale and ready to fall over.  We want you to look after yourself, so you can help your _Ada_ and Bard, right?”

She didn’t say anything; she just looked to King Dáin with desperate eyes.

He stepped over and patted her arm.  “Come no’ lassie.  Percy’s right.” Dáin told her gently.  “Ye need to go get yer rest.  Do as he tells ye, and I’ll see ye in a while.”

The Dwarf turned her in the direction of the passageway, and motioned Bofur forward. “No’ lassie, he’ll be takin’ ye to go lay yerself down.  We’ll come an’ git ye the minute summat ‘appens.”

Like a lost child, she allowed Percy and Bofur to lead her away.

In the meantime, the Captain was busy arranging shifts between the Elves that stepped forward.  Two would sit with each King immediately and will be relieved by the others on a regular basis.

One of the Elves that stepped forward, was Daeron’s cousin, Turamarth, and he spoke to the Healer in Sindarin.  The other volunteers nodded in agreement, and the Elf pointed to four of the volunteers to go back.

After they left, Dáin walked over to the Healer, and Turamarth.  "What did you say?"

Turamarth, who had been working hard to learn Westron this winter answered, in a heavy accent.  “They are willing to give their _fëas -_ their own spirits - if need be, so that the Kings might live.” 

“They’d do that?”  Dáin asked, with not a little respect.

“Absolutely, if it comes to that.” The Chief Healer nodded.  "Just as Lord Thranduil gave too much to Bard, they are willing to give their all, as well."

“Would it save them?”  The King Under the Mountain asked, when he saw the sad look on the Healer’s face.

“I wish I could tell you, My Lord.  I simply do not know.” The older Elf said, weakly.  "This day has been a calamity."

"You, lad," he pointed to Turamarth. "Take 'im to his bed."

Turamarth saluted.  "Yes, My Lord," took the Healer by the elbow.  "You are very weak; lean on me," as he walked away.

Before Dáin went back to see the Kings, he scribbled a short note, and whispered instructions to his guard.  “Send this wi’ a Corbie to Gandalf and tell that bird to hurry.  He’s stayin’ with the Skinchanger down south. Tell _no one,_ ye hear?”

After the Dwarf saluted and left, Dáin made his through the passage, then turned left down the long corridor. 

Dáin cursed under his breath.  “If those two die, the North is lost, an’ we’re _all_ doomed.”

He prayed Gandalf would get the message in time.

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS

 _Hortho!_ – Hurry!

 _Goheno nin,_ _Ada; gin iallon, díheno nin._ – Forgive me, Ada; I beg of you to forgive me.

 _Gwinïg_ – “Little Fingers,” Thranduil’s pet name for Tauriel

 _Gi nathathon, mellon nîn; Gi nathathon_ – I will help you, my friend; I will help you.

 

NOTES:

A Corbie is the Scottish/Celtic name for Raven. 


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard and Thranduil still lay unconscious in their beds, while while Percy, Dain and Tauriel hover over them and worry. King Dain learns a bit more of the motivation behind the Elvenking's decision, but he's still anxious to hear from Gandalf.
> 
> Meanwhile, an important meeting takes place between Hilda, Galion and the head of Royal Council, to determine how best to handle this crisis. 
> 
> Gandalf responds to King Dain's urgent appeal for help, but not in the way he was hoping...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Praise the heavens and pass the champagne! My computer was returned, with a whole new hard drive - that's the good news. Because it has a new hard drive, it now has a permanent case of amnesia (poor thing) so I've spend several days "moving in" and getting settled. And I grab my USB Flash Drives and back up every single blessed thing I'm doing!

M 

**The Woodland Realm; 15 th of April 2942, T.A. (Morning)**

Two hours after Thranduil left for Dale that morning, Galion received a message via Raven that that Bard had hurt his leg, and Thranduil was needed right away. 

“Well, that explains why Thranduil stumbled, doesn’t it?”  Hilda held the paper in her hand.

“It does,” Galion said.

“He seemed right enough after a few minutes, so I suppose it can’t be that serious.”

They sent for Daeron, and the three of them debated what to say to the children.  After discussing it at length, they decided it didn’t hurt to let them know what the message said; it wasn’t exactly ominous news. 

“Is that why _Ada_ left?” Sigrid asked.

“Yes.”  Galion said.  “He did not know what was wrong, but when he stumbled this morning, he thought it might have something to do with your Da.  He could feel it through their bond.  You understand about Elven bond-mates?”

“Aye.  I read it one of the books _Ada_ gave me.  Why didn’t he say something then?”

“Because he was not sure, and he only left for Dale as a precaution.  Remember, theirs is a mixed-race marriage, and nothing can be certain.”

Bain looked upset, but nodded.  “I guess I can see that.  And Tilda was there, so even if he did know for sure, he wouldn’t want her to get upset.”

“A lot of people hurt their legs.  Mine don’t work right, so maybe Ada went to help him feel better, like he does me.”

Galion picked her up from her chair and put her in his lap.  “That is exactly why he went, _h_ _ênig.”_

Sigrid nodded.  “Will he be all right?”

 “All we know, is that your Da hurt his leg and they wanted Ada to go.”  If there was worse news, it would have said so.”

Galion told them.  “As upsetting as it was when your Ada collapsed, it seemed a good thing.  Thranduil arrived in Dale hours before they expected him.”

  _“Ada’s_ a powerful Elf, so he’ll make sure Da’s all right.” Bain agreed.

So, it was settled.  They were concerned, of course, but felt sure all would be well.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale; 15 th of April 2942, T.A. (Evening)**

Percy sat beside Bard, who was so pale, so still.  He watched his chest, to see if it would rise, but the movement was barely noticeable.  He sighed, and placed his hand over his friend’s and gasped at how cold it felt. 

“Talk to him.”  The Healer’s assistant suggested.  The Elf’s hand remained on Bard’s chest, over his heart.

“What do I say?”  Percy asked, with a broken voice.  “Doesn’t he need to sleep?”

“He in a state much deeper than sleep, Lord Percy.  Talk to him like you normally would and make sure your words are relaxed and positive.  It helps.”

Just as the Healer finished her sentence, King Dáin stepped into the room, followed by two of Feren’s soldiers, ready to offer when they could.

Dáin stepped over to Bard, looking at his face, intensely.  “May Durin and Mahal protect ye, an’ keep ye safe, boy.” He whispered.  He took in the sight of the room, full of bloody cloths and a blood-soaked mattress.  “This place looks like a war zone.”  He commented.  “I know he canna be moved yet, but tha’s no reason te 'ave te look a' all this.”

“You’re right.”  Percy said.  “I’ll get this cleaned up –“

“Sit.”  The King Under the Mountain turned, and ordered a Guard to go and arrange it. 

Percy took in the condition of the bed.  “If – no, _when_ – Bard can be moved, I’ll have to have to burn this mattress; it’s ruined.  But we can cover what we can with blankets.”

“Good idea.”  Dáin said.  “We can just tuck them against his side for now; it’ll ‘elp wi’ the smell, it will be less o’ a fright to Tauriel.  The poor lass has enough te deal wi’.”

What can one say, when something like this happens?  Neither of them knew what else to talk about, so they began to speak of practical, trivial matters, which brought them a strange sort of comfort.  Solid problems, with workable solutions, helped anchor them in this terrifying situation, where everything else depended upon intangibles.

Finally, Dáin began to speak on a more personal level.  “Ye ken it’s no’ a secret I couldna stand that Elf King, when we first came.  But I liked Bard from the start.”

“Really?”  Percy was surprised.  “Even though he was the ‘enemy,’ at that time?”

“Oh, aye.  Ye‘uns had nothin’ but the clothes on yer backs and a ragtag Army, but there ye were, every bit as straight an’ tall as the Elfs.  Ye boys had true courage, and that counts fer a lot wi’ my kind.”

Percy nodded.  “That was the first real chance most of us had to make a better life for our families, after years of tyranny.  We weren’t about to let it slip through our fingers.” 

“I ken that, right enough.  I heard abo’ the ol’ Master.  A right bastard, he was. But Bard stood head an’ shoulders above ‘em all, on tha’ field, even more than Thranduil.  The lad was ready te plunge in and do for his people, no matter what it took.”

“So was Thranduil.”  Percy countered.

“True, but the Elf had thousands o’ years te get the hang o’ bein’ a King, and he had tens o’ thousand o’ his men backin’ him up, so it were easy fer _him_ ta feel sure of himself, ye ken?”  Dáin smirked.  “Bard was a King fer what?  A week or two?  But the lad had the same bearin’ as if he was born to it.  He’s sure to be a grand ruler; his humble start in life’ll keep ‘im from bein’ arrogant and drunk on his own power.” 

Percy agreed, as he looked at his friend’s face.  “Bard is the best of all of us. I’ve loved this boy like a son for most of his life, and looked after him since his Da passed...” He looked up at Dáin.  “Thranduil really isn’t the ass everyone thinks he is.”

“Oh, I ken that, no’.  Took a while te see it, I admit.  But he’s got good qualities, fer an Elf.  Thorin had me thinkin’ he wanted te take over Erebor…” Dáin sighed.  “Well, Thorin had me thinkin’ a lot o’ thin’s, but tha’ hardly matters now.  I miss ‘im, and the boys.”

“Thranduil always said it was the Gold Sickness that was responsible, not Thorin, and not even Gandalf could cure him of it. He and Bard were impressed that Thorin threw it off.  Gandalf said it was a miracle, and it spoke to his quality, and Thranduil agreed with him.  It took a lot of guts to go up to Ravenhill and take out the Orc leaders.”

“He’s right.  It were a trap, te be sure, but those two albino assholes had te die, or we could never win.  The Elf’s son saved our Tauriel, an’ we won’t forget that.”

Percy looked at the Dwarf with a small smile.  “A lot’s happened since the Battle, hasn’t it?  Look where we all are, now; this area has never had a better chance at peace.”  He looked sadly at Bard’s still body.  “I just hope and pray…”

“Aye, lad; we all do.”

“May I ask you something, My Lord?”

“Ask away,” answered Dáin.

“If Thorin had lived, would he still be fighting the Gold Sickness?”

“Seems likely.”  Dáin heaved a sigh.  “He might ha’ kept it at bay fer a time, but when it’s in yer blood, it’s in yer blood, ye ken.  There’s a good chance Fili and Kili would ha’ been tormented, wi’ it, too.”

“I’d never go so far as to say I’m glad they’re dead, Lord Dáin, but for everyone’s sake, I’m glad you’re King Under the Mountain.”

“Twas meant to be so, I reckon.  But at a high cost.”  The Dwarf shook his head sadly.  “Te tell ye the truth, it wasna the Gold at all.   It was that feckin’ Arkenstone that caused tha’ wretched madness.  An’ now, the damned thing’s back inside the mountain an’ good riddance to it.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Well, Thror and his get ha’ been around gold all their lives, but it wasna’ until that damn’ stone  were dug out o’ the Mountain, that the madness began.”

Percy considered this.  “One night, Thranduil told us about the three Silmarils, made in Valinor,” he mused. “He said all they really did was fester greed, disaster and bloodshed over there, and it followed the stones here in Middle Earth.*  He’d wondered if the Arkenstone was of the same type.”

“What made him thin’ so?” Dáin asked, curiously.

“When Bilbo brought the Arkenstone to them, the night before the Battle, Thranduil sensed something from it.  He said it ‘called’ to him somehow, so he told Bard keep it.  He refused to even touch it.”

Dáin sat back thoughtfully.  “A smart move on ‘is part.  I ken the story o’ them old jewels, ‘cause o’ that damned necklace my folk made for the Elves, in another age.  Caused no small amount o’ bloodshed between Elves and Dwarves, and the Elves even turned on each other for ‘em!  It’s funny that neither Men nor ‘obbits were bothered by ‘em.”

“Eärendil carries one across the sky, every night, and that’s not a bad thing.”  Percy said.

“True enough, but Eärendil was only half an Elf, weren’t he?”  Dáin tapped the side of his nose.

“Ah.”

“Whether tha’ wretched stone was part o’ a Silmaril or no’, we’ll never know, and I don’t care te find out.  All I know is that when Balin suggested Thorin should be buried with it, it saved me from getting’ rid o’ the cursed thin’, myself, and we’re all better off.”

“We were glad to see it returned to the Mountain, too.”

“Aye; we’ve go’ enuff work te do, wi’out that blasted thing to harass us.”  Dáin got up, and put his hand on Percy’s shoulder.  “’Twill be all right, lad.  No matter wha’ ‘appens, we’ll do our best.  It’s all we can do, lad.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

 

Dáin wearily made his way into Thranduil’s room, where two of his Elves were sitting beside him, with their heads bowed.

He took a chair on the other side of the bed, and looked at the Elf King.  Durin’s beard; he was a pasty-faced bastard on a good day; now, he looked like a carved piece of ice!

 “Ye’ve got ta live, ye pointy-eared Princess,” Dáin told him in a low, yet commanding voice.  “You and tha’ damned wizard kept tellin’ me we had ta stick together, and I’ll no’ let ye bail on me, do ye hear?  I canna keep all the North together by meself!  Why would ye do this to yerself?  I ken ye love Bard; anyone wi’ a brain kens that, but ye’ve got ta come through this!  We need ye, ye blasted Elf!  All them bairns need ya!”

Perhaps Dáin thought he could goad Thranduil, into waking up, but whatever the reason, it had no effect on the Elvenking; he remained still. 

Just then, an assistant to the Chief Healer came in, put his hands on Thranduil’s chest and closed his eyes.  Dáin saw him heave a sigh of relief, and when he took his hands away, the King Under the Mountain motioned him into the corridor.

“Wha’ in Mahal’s is going on ‘ere?”  he demanded.  _“Why would Thranduil do such a thin’ to himself?”_

The Healer gave him a patient, but grim smile and asked Dáin to follow him into Bard’s study, so they could talk in private.

“I understand your frustration and fear, Lord Dáin, and I share it.  You must understand that King Thranduil _had_ to do this.  For everyone’s sake, including yours.”

“How can ye say that?  They’re _both_ courtin’ death, now, instead o’ just Bard!  How could tha’ be any good for anybody?  They’ve got three bairns in o’er there in the woods, and poor Tauriel…  That lass is about ta lose both her parents!  Again!  I ken he loves the lad, but someone’s got ta think o’ them little ones!”  The King Under the Mountain couldn’t contain his anger.

“Please, My Lord; sit, and allow me to explain, and perhaps you may understand.”

“This ‘ad better be good!”

“My Lord, I know you understand about Elven bond-mates, and you also know about the choice the Valar laid before Bard and Thranduil, if they married…”

Over the next half-hour, the Healer shared with Dáin all the agony and sacrifice Thranduil made, after Queen Mírelen’s murder, to keep from fading, and remain with his people, and his son.  He spoke of all the centuries of loneliness, and deep depression, until he met Bard, and they fell in love.  He even told Dáin about Thranduil’s sacrifice during the War, and how he suffered from the Dragon.

“You were not wrong, My Lord, when you say that my King was icy and remote, but not because he was arrogant or haughty; it was because he was trying to survive.  When he and Lord Bard joined, their _fëas_ joined, as is the way of Elves.  It is how we are made.”

“Why?”

“I suppose for the same reason Mahal, or as we call him, _Aule_ _̈,_ made Dwarves with special talents and characteristics no other race has.  There are some who think, because Dwarves were adopted by Eru Ilúvitar, and not created, they are lesser, but anyone with wisdom understands it was _meant_ to be so, and we are to appreciate and respect - not compete - with each other.”

“So, yer sayin’, if one dies, the other…”

“The spouse can die from the grief and the loss.  They either fade into nothingness, and hear the call of Mandos, or the remain here, as a shapeless spirit.   Most of them sail to Valinor as quickly as possible.”

Dáin shook his head in wonder.  “So… it were a miracle tha’ the Elf lived after his wife passed.”

“It was, My Lord, and I think he knew he would not be able to do it again.  King Thranduil knew, if Bard died, he could not survive another sundering of his _fëa._   His only choice was to sacrifice himself, if necessary, to make sure Bard lived, for his children, for his Kingdom and for the North.  If only one of them could survive, it _needed to be_ Bard.  Prince Legolas could take over the Woodland Realm, and Lord Bard would have his children, and their love to help him.

“So… Thranduil ken he was killin’ himself?  And still he wouldna stop?”

The Healer’s eyes filled with tears.  “Not if it meant Lord Bard would die; because he would die, as well.”

“So, what happens now?”

“We wait, and hope, and send our most fervent prayers to the Valar.   If the King of Dale cannot overcome his injuries, they are both lost.”

Dáin nodded his head.  “So, if Bard lives, Thranduil will?”

The Healer blew out a breath.  “That I do not know.  My King gave away too much of himself, and he has almost nothing left.  Another miracle is needed to save him, as well.”

“Durin help us all,” Dáin rubbed his eyes and whispered, and sent up yet another prayer to Mahal for his message to the Wizard to be delivered in time.

 

 

***************

 

**The Woodland Realm, 15 th April 2942 T.A. (Evening)**

The children had decided to pile onto Tilda’s bed to play cards, while Galion, Hilda and Daeron sat in the Living Room.  They were concerned for Bard, of course, and were relieved to see a Messenger at the door to the Royal Chambers. 

“A Raven has arrived, My Lord.”  He handed the paper to Galion.

The Aide opened it up. “It is from Commander Feren, written in Tengwar.”  After scanning it quickly, he motioned for them to step onto the balcony, so he could translate it for Hilda: 

> _“Regret to report Bard’s condition still critical. Thranduil kept him alive, but at great risk to his own life.  Both are in peril--outcome unknown.  Dáin has taken steps to ensure safety here & urges tighter security there in WR.   Will send word if any change.  -Feren”_

_“Ai!  Û Nae!”_ Daeron cried.  “Lord Thranduil is also in danger!”

“Oh, gods…” Hilda said, as her eyes opened wide.  _“Both of them?_   They _both_ could die?  What happened?”   She suddenly went pale, and Galion grabbed her arm, as he and Daeron helped her back into the living room.  They continued to speak in low tones, so as not to alert the children.

Daeron poured Hilda a glass of water and checked her pulse.  “Deep breaths, My Lady… that’s it.  I believe Feren wrote this in Elvish so the children would not see it.”

“I agree.”

“But what do we tell the children?”  Hilda demanded.

“First, we must tell the Council.”  The Aide said.  “We cannot do anything without their instructions, Hilda.”

“I will arrange for that,” Daeron told Galion.  “Please sit with Lady Hilda.”

The Guard opened the door to the hall, and saw Ruvyn was on duty. 

“Send for the head of the Council immediately,” he ordered.  “Tell Lady Emëldir we will meet with her in the King’s office in a few minutes.”

Ruvyn saluted, and quickly left on his errand.

Galion stood up, and forced himself to appear calm, then went into Tilda's room, to speak with the children.

“Auntie Hil and I need to step over to your _Ada’s_ office for a few minutes.  Can you behave for Daeron, while he is in charge here?”

The boys shrugged and nodded their heads, but the girls were curious.   “Is this about Da’s leg?”  Sigrid asked.  “Is something wrong?”

Ah; naturally, Sigrid would suspect something.  What to say, without lying?

“There is a Council member we need to meet with.”  He finally said.  “We will return shorty.”

The young girl looked at him steadily for a few minutes, then seemed to be satisfied with his response.  She looked back down at her cards and said, “Til, it’s your turn. Here; let me help you…”

Galion heaved a sigh to himself, and took Hilda across the Hall.

 

Lady Emëldir, the Head of the Royal Council of the Woodland Realm, was a tall Elleth with long black hair, and deep blue eyes full of wisdom and determination.  She had grown up with Galion, and they played together as children.  She’d also been close to King Oropher and Queen Lindorie, and under his rule, she had emerged as an intelligent administrator, and talented politician.   Very little got past her, and she was not someone to cross lightly.

This _Elleth_ demanded excellence from everyone around her, yet she was fair-minded, with keen insight.  For many years, as she walked the halls and walkways of the Palace, everyone bowed and stepped out of her way, because her people knew how hard she worked to keep the Woodland Realm prosperous and safe.

When Thranduil first returned from the War of the Last Alliance, he struggled mightily with Emëldir at Council meetings, while he learned the intricacies of ‘Kinging.’  She had caused the young, inexperienced King numerous headaches, until he eventually understood that she was only working to his benefit.  Emëldir demanded that he _earn_ the Council’s respect, and it was through this period of struggle, that he learned how to be a canny and effective ruler.  Thranduil eventually came to admire the qualities he’d once hated in her, and even began to emulate some of her tactics.  For several millennia, he trusted her to keep the Kingdom running, when he was absent from the Palace.  

Moments after she was sent for, Emëldir was seated in the overstuffed chair in Thranduil’s office, looking at the message from Feren, as Galion and Hilda explained things in detail. 

“It pains me to agree with Lord Thranduil’s actions, but I am afraid I do.” The Councilwoman nodded.  “The Northern Kingdoms _must_ be kept intact; Lord Bard must be saved, at all cost.”  She sighed.  “We must also be ready with a plan of action, should the worst happen.  I believe a provision for this event was spelled out in the formal agreements, when the Alliance of the North was made, last December.  Do you have this document handy, Lord Galion?”

“I do, My Lady.”  The Aide had anticipated this, and handed her Thranduil’s copy of the Treaty.  “The section you are speaking of, is on the twelfth page, paragraph four.”

Emëldir took a minute or two to read the document, then nodded her head.  “Thankfully we have a solid plan to put into place, and the Woodland Realm has a good chance of surviving with minimal damage.  Prince Legolas will take his place of course, but we have been running this Kingdom with efficiency for thousands of years, so there will be a minimum of disruption.

"Dale, however, is a new Kingdom, and will be most vulnerable, especially with no Army of its own, yet.  Should Bard die, the Woodland Realm will continue to protect the City, and King Daín and Lord Legolas will act as Co-Regents for Lord Bain, until he is of age.”  She read a few paragraphs quietly to herself.  “Luckily, the language in this agreement is very specific as to who will control different aspects of the Regency.  This will go far to prevent conflict between our countries.”  She looked at Galion.  “I am assuming this is due to your diligence?”

“Master Balin contributed a great deal, as well, My Lady.”  Galion bowed his head.  “I have also made sure Lord Thranduil and Lord Bard prepared their will, with clear provisions for all the children.”

She gave the Aide a grim smile.  “You are to be commended for that, though I pray we never have to use it.”

“Thank you.”

“Commander Feren,” the Councilor continued, “will continue to develop the Army in Dale, and annex the surrounding lands, such as Esgaroth, and other villages near the City.”  She turned to Galion.  “You, of course must retain your position as Aide, and you will continue to work with Lord Percy and Lady Hilda, as they continue in their duties.  Your knowledge and skill are vital to the stability of the North, _Mellon n_ _în_.  There is little you do not know about running a Kingdom, and you have a great deal of knowledge of Dale’s history.  They will need your expertise and experience there.”

The Chief Aide bowed his head.  “I am yours to command.”

“How can you say these things?”  Hilda became impatient at this morbid talk.  “They’re both still alive, yet you’re planning as if they’re already dead!”

Galion held his breath, hoping their wouldn't be an explosion from either one of the ladies.  If ever there was a match for the Hilda, Seneschal of Dale, it would be found in Lady Emëldir.  The two were a great deal alike in their talent for organization, their knack for leadership, and refusal to suffer foolishness. 

Thankfully, instead of a personality clash, the Councilor looked upon Hilda with respect, understanding and patience.

“Lady Hilda, I know you are upset and frightened, as are we all, but do you not think our Kings would _want_ us to ensure the safety of those they love?” she asked gently.  “Please believe me; I do not enjoy discussing these matters, but we _must_ make sure their hopes their hard work will not be lost.  Whatever happens, they will rest easier knowing we have things in hand.”

Hilda stared at the Elf, and after a few moments, her shoulders relaxed, and she nodded her head.  “Aye, you’re right, My Lady.  I guess all we can do is hope for the best, and prepare for the worst.”  Her voice wavered as she spoke, and Galion reached over to grasp her hand.

“We will all do this, _Mellon_ _n_ _în.”_ He assured her.

“I understand, and I share your worry,”  Emëldir told her, "but my first responsibility is for the safety of the Kingdom, and the North.  With two of its Kings in peril, we will be especially vulnerable to invaders.  You, My Lady,"  She smiled, gently. “are right to place _your_ concerns with the children.  The Prince and Princesses look to you for support and guidance, and that, too, is a heavy responsibility.  They are vital to our legacy.”

“Thank you.” Hilda nodded.  “But, you’re right; our boys would be angry if they knew we’d let things slide.”

“Should we make an announcement of some sort?” Galion asked.

“I do not think it would be wise, just yet.”

“Don’t they deserve the right to pray for Bard and Thranduil?” Hilda asked.

“They do, of course; our people love their Kings very much.  But until security measures are put into place, news like this could make us vulnerable to invaders, and could cost lives.  King Dáin was right to tell us to secure our borders.  I worry about the small villages on the outskirts in our forest.  We always watch them carefully of course, but historically speaking, these good folk are the first to be attacked.  This has also happened in Old Dale, years before Girion’s grandfather was even born.”

“I never thought of that, but it would make sense.”  Hilda agreed. 

The Elleth gave her a sad smile, and looked at Daeron.  “As it stands now, I am going to double the guards at our borders, and the guard of the villages.  I will also issue orders to Commander Feren to do the same at Dale, although I am sure he and Dáin have already done so.  We need to increase the Guard on the road to Dale as well, and scour the surrounding areas for enemies."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Until all those things are in place, I must order you both to say nothing, not even to the children.  I believe our people have the right to know, but not at the risk of innocent lives.”

“What about after?” Hilda asked. 

“Once we are secure, we all can share in the joy or grief together.”  Emëldir sighed, sadly.  “If it is grievous news, we will all need each other, to get through it.”

Hilda was touched by the look on the Councilor’s face and reached out and took her hand.  “We few can lean on each other, _now._   I’ve learned something important from you, My Lady, and I hope to use your example in my duties to my Kingdom.”

 “Whatever happens, My Lady, Dale will greatly benefit from your service.”  Emëldir smiled.  “We will pray for the Kings we love, and hope Eru and the Valar will keep them with us.”

“We will.” Hilda gave her hand a little squeeze. 

 

When the meeting was over, Galion and Hilda threw their shoulders back, prayed for strength and went back to the children.  They were determined to keep things as normal as possible, and to protect them from worry, until there was a definite reason to upset any of them, especially Tilda, whose heart still wasn’t quite as strong as it should be.  Although neither one admitted it, they both were relieved; saying all those words out loud to the children would make it seem real and permanent, and they simply weren't ready to do that, and still be strong.

Sigrid wasn’t suspicious when Daeron ate supper with them – that was nothing out of the ordinary.  She _did_ notice his extra consideration toward Auntie Hil, though, and how he made sure Galion’s teacup was filled, and they both were comfortable.

Something was different, but Sigrid unconsciously wrapped herself in denial for as long as she could, and pretended everything was fine.  She, too, was afraid and didn't want to admit it.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 16 th April 2942 T.A. (Early hours of the morning)**

In Percy’s room, Tauriel tried to get some sleep, but her worries kept her tossing and turning, until she couldn’t stand it anymore, and sat up with her stomach clenched with anxiety.  She was still bone-weary, but couldn’t face all this alone in the dark, so she got up and pulled her clothes back on, before going out into the corridor to check on her _Ada_ and Bard.

Her first stop was to the Royal Bedchamber, where she found Bard still struggling to stay alive. 

Ever since Thranduil had been carried away to Tauriel’s room, the hand of at least one Healer was constantly on Bard’s chest to encourage his heart and lungs to function, they told her.   

“It was a good thing they did,” Percy added.  “Just about an hour ago, Thangon jumped up and started whining, about the same time they felt Bard’s heart act up again.  Thank the Stars they got it to settle down again, and made him take in some nice deep breaths.”

“Oh, Valar…”  She whispered, and sat down beside him.  “Have you gotten any rest?”

Percy shook his head, and wouldn’t let go of Bard’s hand.  “My place is with him, until I know he’ll be all right.”  The man looked exhausted, but determined.  “I can’t…”

She put her hand on his arm.  “I know, _Mellon_ _n_ _în_.  If sheer force of our will could save them, they would both be up and around, my now.”

Percy swallowed, as his throat tightened.  “Aye.  Long ago, I promised Bard's Da I’d look after the boy, and I’m not going to let either one of them down.”

Tauriel saw Thangon, over by the fireplace, and took pity on him, as he continued to stare at his master, hoping for some sign of encouragement.  _“Tul_ _ë, Thangon.”_   She went to him and grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him to stand.  “I promise we will return soon, but you must go outside for a bit.”  The dog didn’t object much to leaving Bard, thankfully, but once he had done his business outside, he was anxious to get back, where he positioned himself next to Percy, and put his head in the man’s lap. 

Tauriel squeezed Percy’s shoulder.  “I’m going to sit with _Ada_.”

“That’ll be good; he needs you, love.  I’ll be here.”

When she entered her room, the Elves told her Feren had finally went to try and get some rest, so she sat down and picked up Thranduil’s hand and held the icy cold fingers to her lips.

 “Please, _Ada…”_ she begged him, through her tears.  “Please do not leave us.  She began to cry.  “I cannot lose you… I am so frightened of being alone again…” She laid her head on the mattress and sobbed out all she could think of to persuade her foster-father to stay with her.  “I’ve just gotten you back; we’ve just become a true family, and you cannot take that away from me…  I love you, _Ada…_ ”

 

***************

 

Ermon, the Chief Healer of the Woodland Realm knew he needed to rest, but after a only a few hours, found himself awake again.  He was still exhausted, but he decided to get up for a short time and check on his patients, before going back to sleep.

~o0o~

> Ermon had overseen the physical welfare of his people, since Oropher was King, and spent many years training in Imladris, under the great Lord Elrond himself.  He’d presided over Thranduil’s birth, and served in the War of the Last Alliance, assisting Elrond in treating the new King’s severe burns after the Dragon was killed.  He’d brought Legolas into the world, and had tearfully prepared Queen Mírelen’s body for burial.
> 
> After thousands of years in this profession, Ermon had been witness to more tragedy than anyone should be asked to bear, but he was fortunate to have his wife, Elénaril.  Over the last several months, long letters passed between them, and it helped each of them bear the burdens of their calling.  But what could he say to his wife about _this calamity?_ He loved King Thranduil, and had grown quite fond of Lord Bard in the short time he'd known him.  Finally, finally his King was happy again, and his long depression had lifted, and now...   

~o0o~

He desperately wished she were here, not in Elenaril's capacity as a Healer, but simply as someone who loved him and would comfort him.  To put her arms around him and hold him tight, make him feel like he could make all this better.

After checking on Bard, and listening to reports on his condition, the Chief Healer then went to Thranduil’s room.  He wasn't surprised to see Tauriel there, fast asleep with her head on the mattress, and clutching Thranduil’s hand to her tear-stained cheeks.  He rubbed her back, to wake her gently and urge her back to bed, but she only whimpered and gripped the Elvenking’s hand tighter.  Ermon sighed, took an extra blanket and put it around her shoulders, and stroked her hair.  _“Posto hí,_ _Gwin_ _ïg_.”

With a sad sigh, he went back to try to rest.  When he finally drifted off to sleep, his pillow was wet with tears.

 

***************

 

Dáin didn’t sleep at all that night.  He took turns sitting the with Kings, paced in Bard’s study or sat at the table and stared into his mug of ale.  Alun had brought in a platter of food, so he made up some plates and took them to Percy and Tauriel and made them eat.

The Dwarf took notice of the giant dog by the fireplace, and noticed his food and water dish hadn’t been touched.  He bent down and stroked his big head and Thangon looked up at him with beseeching eyes, and whined.

“I’m sorry lad,” Dáin told him.  “We don’ ken anythin’ yet, but ye did good by yer master.  Any hope he’s got is because ye knocked ‘im out o’ the way.  No’ ye’ve got te eat summat, ye hear me?”  Thangon looked at Dáin thoughtfully, whined again, and put his head back down.

The King Under the Mountain stood up, sighed and shook his head.  His message should have gotten to the Gandalf hours ago, and he was more and more convinced that, without some sort of divine intervention, they both would die.

“Blast it!”  Dáin spat, as he walked down the corridor.  "Where in Mordor is tha’ feckin’ Wizard when ye need ‘im?”

 

***************

 

Bard blinked several times, and his eyes slowly focused on the stars shining in the clear summer sky.

But it wasn’t the summer sky; it was the ceiling in Thranduil’s bedchamber. 

Still, the stars looked beautiful, and he smiled as he watched them sparkle for a while.  They were shining especially bright tonight; like real stars…

But they _were_ real stars.

How could real stars be on the ceiling?

Bard sat up, yawned, and stretched his out his arms, before he ran his fingers through his hair.  He looked to his right –

Thranduil’s side of the bed hadn’t been slept in.  He threw the covers back to get out of bed, and reached for his green robe, but it wasn’t there either.  He _always_ kept it on the chair by the bed.  Bard looked down at the white silk nightgown he was wearing.  It was soft and comfortable and very well made.  It could be a gift from Thranduil, but he didn’t remember it. He’d never worn a long gown like this for sleeping…

Puzzled, he got out of bed to peek into the nursery, but there was no one there, either.  Tilda’s bed was neatly made, and her stuffed toys were sitting against the pillows – well, her stuffed Elk and her Elf-doll was.  Charlotte was with his Little Bean, wherever she was.

“Thranduil?”  he called out.  “Galion?”

Bard went into the front of the apartment, but no one could be found.  The furniture was still there, the cups and decanters of water and wine were sitting on the sideboard as usual, and the arrangement of evergreens and branches was decorating the dining table, as always, when not use.   The fireplace wasn’t lit, but there was a neat stack of wood in the basket and all the small framed pictures were smiling at him from the mantle.

“Sigrid?  Bain?  Tilda?” he called again, as he walked into the children’s rooms. “Where are you?  Children?” Nothing.  Again, beds neatly made, but their dressers and were still full of their personal items.

“Where is everybody?” He growled in frustration, as he took a look around.

He knew guards were always present in the wide Hall; maybe they would know where his family went… 

Still barefoot, Bard went to the front door and opened it –

“Hello, Bard!  I’ve been waiting for you to wake up!”

“Gandalf?  What are you doing here?”

The Wizard raised his bushy eyebrows.  “Are you not glad to see me?  I was told I was needed, so here I am.”

“Who told you that?”

“The King Under the Mountain, asked for my help.”

“Dáin?  But why?” 

“I’d like to speak with you, if I might.” The Wizard smiled at him, patiently.

“I’ll talk about anything you want, just as soon as I know where my children are.  Have you seen them?  Or Thranduil?”

“Bard,” Gandalf said gently.  “Can you tell me what you hear?”

He stopped and listened, and the only sounds he could hear, were the echoes of their voices in the long, empty hallway.  Where were the guards?  Where were the noises that usually came from the entrance to the Royal Wing?  There was always a low hum of chatter and activity here, and it was gone.

“Bard,” Gandalf said again. “I’d like to speak with you, if I may.”

Everything was so…bright…and clean…and new…  So…

… _otherworldly._

 “Where am I?”  Bard asked, becoming nervous.  “This is the Palace, but something’s not right…”

“I thought you’d like this.  You’ve said you feel at home here; it’s the nicest place you’ve ever been.  You especially love the hot baths, don’t you?”

“Why are you here?” Bard whispered.

Gandalf just looked at him, with a serene smile on his face.  Slowly, Bard began to realize what was happening…

“I was in Dale…” He said, in a thin voice.

“Yes, you were, Bard.  Can you tell me what you remember?”

“Thangon was barking at me.” He ran his hand over his face.  “Tauriel screamed, and then…“  He looked down at his left leg.  “But it feels fine…”

“Nothing hurts now, Bard.”  The Wizard said, softly.  “You are beyond pain, beyond sorrow.”

“Gandalf?” A wave of trepidation swept over him.

“Yes?”

“I’m dead, aren’t I?”

 

 

 

**ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:**

_Nae;_ _û!_ – Alas, it cannot be!

 _Posto hí,_ _Gwin_ _ïg_ – Rest here, Little Fingers (Galion’s pet name for Tauriel when she was a child)

 

**NOTES:**

*--The three Silmarils were created by Fëanor during the First Age, and more information can be found here:     <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Silmarils>. 

**--The _Nauglamír_ or “Necklace of the Dwarves” was a famed piece of jewelry originally made for King Finrod Felagund, and King Elu Thingol had the Silmaril that Beren and Luthien retrieved placed on it.  The Sons of Fëanor, driven by their Oath to retrieve all the gems at any cost, drove them to try to retrieve it, and brought about a terrible Kinslaying and the destruction of Doriath.  For more information:  <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Nauglamir>

Of course, if you want to know the entire story of these jewels, read _The Silmarillion,_ by J.R.R. Tolkien

 

 

 

 


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both our King's lives still hang in the balance, but help comes from unexpected places.

 

 

 

 

“Gandalf! I can’t be dead!”  Bard cried.  “Shouldn’t I see Mattie, or my parents?  Why aren’t they here?”

“Because, Bard, you chose a different fate, and you won't see them again.  Don’t you remember?”

 _Oh…_  

Bard crossed his arms around his stomach, nervously.  “I don’t understand this…”

“Bard,” The Wizard said, in a calm, soothing voice.  “I want you to tell me what you see.”

He looked to his left and saw the long, wide hallway of the Palace, but he noticed there were no doors; just the polished stone and the occasional bench along the walls.  To his right, was the door to the King’s garden, made of thick dark oak, with iron vine-like fixtures with large leaves on them.

He turned to face that door, and suddenly felt a strong urge to open it.

He took a step forward and reached out to put his hand on the knob, but the Wizard’s voice stopped him.

“Are you sure you want to do that Bard?”

“It’s only the garden.”

“Is it?”

“What do you mean?”  Bard asked him.  “It’s a nice place; even in winter.  I’ll need a coat, though…”

When he turned around to return to the Kings’ chambers, the door had disappeared.  There was nothing there but a smooth white wall, with carved decorative trim.

“Wh…  Our door...”

“Bard, I need you to decide something.”

“What do I have to decide?”  Once again, he faced the Wizard.

“Where you go from here.”

Again, Bard heard something call to him from the door to his right.  “What’s behind that door, Gandalf?  Please, I need to know.”

The Wizard opened the Garden door, but it opened to a place Bard didn’t recognize.  Thranduil’s garden was gone, and its place was a large dark hall with polished Obsidian pillars.  A thick, dark vapor concealed the floor, and occasionally wound its way through the air.  There were beautiful, ornate lamps and their bright light reflected on the polished walls and the columns. 

It should be an eerie, frightening place, but it was unearthly, ethereal, and beautiful.

As he looked at it, he wondered if he should feel afraid, but he wasn’t – something told him he could find peace, and rest there. 

“These are the Halls of Mandos, Bard.”

“It’s breathtaking,” Bard marveled, "but for some reason, I always thought it would be light; full of sunshine and flowers.”

He heard Gandalf laugh.  “Maybe it will be, for you.  Your time in these Halls will reflect the life you lived in Middle Earth.  Once you enter, Námo will show you to your rooms, and there you will spend time reflecting upon your deeds when you are alive.  If you led an honorable life, it will be a pleasant stay.”

“That sounds wonderful.”  Bard said, wistfully.

“And for you, it will be.  For another, who has not led such an exemplary life, it will be spent doing penance.”  Gandalf told him.

“Really?”

 “Fëanor is here, and he will remain until the end of Arda.”

Bard remembered that story from one of the books Thranduil had sent him.  Then he realized something.

“Gandalf, how can you even be here?  Aren’t you with Bilbo, at Beorn’s house?”

“I still am.”

“You can’t be in two places at once!”

“I can’t?”  Gandalf gave him a mischievous smile.  “Why is that?”

“I don’t understand…”  Bard whispered again, weakly.

“Please, allow me to explain.  Better yet; let me show you.”

The Grey Wizard took a few steps away from him, then stood very still. 

Bard’s eyes widened in amazement, as he watched Gandalf’s shape and countenance evolve into something so bright and beautiful, he had to cover his face.

“Stop, please!  You’re hurting my eyes!”

“Sorry about that.”  And quickly he was an old man again, with a funny hat and a staff. “Now, do you understand?”

Bard stared at him for a long time, then he laughed.  “There’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“Isn’t that true for everyone?”  Gandalf grinned, and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fair enough.”

“Now, where were we…  Oh, yes!” The Wizard stepped to the side, and Bard saw the door to Thranduil’s study.

“What’s in there?” Bard asked.

“Another choice.”

“What kind of a choice?  Don’t I have to go…” he pointed to the Garden/Halls of Mandos.

Gandalf tilted his head and smiled, saying nothing, until Bard began to understand.

Bard could return to his life, and face whatever came, or he could spend the rest of his existence in peace; first the Mandos’ Halls, then go to Valinor, to await his husband. 

Oddly enough, he found the choice to be more difficult than he imagined.  When he turned toward the Garden door, he wanted nothing more than to step through and feel all his burdens lifted from his shoulders, and for the rest of his existence be surrounded by beauty and contentment.

No more battles of _any_ kind.  

No more anxiety, or worry, or frustration.

No grief.  Ever.

Who _wouldn’t_ want that?

He knew he could choose that door, and be content.  And why not?  He’d worked himself to the bone, every day of his life.  How many years had he spent exhausted, and worn down by cares and worries, the endless grind of poverty, and little hope? 

If he went through the study door, he would go back to his life in Dale. He would face -

“ _Aaaaah!”_ Bard cried out in agony, from the sudden, sharp pain in his left leg, and he suddenly felt incredibly weak.  He began to collapse, and Gandalf had to quickly step over to catch him, before he fell. 

“It hurts….”  He could barely form the words, he was shaking from the pain.

“Yes, it does, I’m afraid.”  The Wizard raised his hand, and said a few words in Quenya, until the pain subsided.  “There is more you must consider, Bard.”

Once he could stand upright again, Bard thought about what else awaited him, if he decided to step through that door.

He would face all the burdens that came with being a King.  Endless problems.  Endless responsibility.   Endless worries.

If he took this path, he would have to face a great and terrible War.  It would be much worse than the Battle of the Five Armies, and would last months, possibly years, much of the Middle Earth could be destroyed.  Worst of all, no matter how much they all tried, they could lose.   Sauron could still be victorious, and all free peoples would be doomed.

If he went through that door, he would, eventually outlive _all_ the humans he cared about, to old age and death:  Percy, Hilda, Alun, Old Ben, and everyone living in Dale, now.  They would, one by one, leave him, forever.

And, worst of all, _worst of all,_ he would be forced to watch his own children, and his children’s children, die, and leave him behind.

Bard’s eyes stung, and his breath caught in his throat.  “Oh, no…  Oh, gods, no…”  He put his hands over his mouth to stifle the sob that came from him. 

“Yes, my friend.  You are truly feeling the pain that awaits you.”

A tear rolled down his cheek.  “It seemed such an easy decision to make, that night.” He choked the words out.  “Losing the children seemed so far in the future…  Oh, stars…  I knew it was going to be agony…” and he buried his face in his hands, and began to cry.

Gandalf put his hand on Bard’s shoulder.  “If you chose this way,” he indicated, the door to the Garden, “you would be spared all that.”

Bard tried to form words, but only more sobs came out, and it went on for several minutes.  

Eventually Gandalf waved his staff, and the emotional agony lessened, and he waited patiently for Bard to calm down. 

The Wizard’s hand tightened on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Bard, but you must know everything that awaits you, if you go back.  Only then, can you make your choice freely.”

Bard nodded, still unable to speak, as he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his white gown.  Then he took a deep breath; the time had come to decide.

He dreaded what life on Middle Earth had in store for him.  It would be full of hard work, frustrations, danger, and, even if he were successful, there would still be agonizing pain.  It honestly seemed pointless; not when could be at ease, and find contentment, until he could see Thranduil on the white shores, and they would be together again…

It didn’t seem to be hard choice at all, really.

But… was it _all_ pain?  Would _all_ these labors be truly pointless?

Dale needed him, yes, but it was more than that.  Bard had decided to accept the Kingship because he genuinely cared about his people.  He’d watched them struggle all his life, and remembered the excitement he felt at having the power to make their lives better.  The future of Dale was full of wonderful possibilities!

Yes, he would lose his children.  But how could he rob himself of time with them, now?  Would he _really_ want to turn away from their smiles, their laughter, or even their tears, when he could take them in his arms and offer them comfort? 

Life as a parent was a no more than a series of special, fleeting moments.  How could he choose to miss any of them?  Even the smallest, most insignificant things in a child’s life could be important, and if he was not there, to help and guide them, how could he know they would be all right?

Would Bain grow up to be a good King?  Would Sigrid be a Healer? And his Tilda…  his tiny little Tilda would be… 

He would never even know, because he wouldn’t be there, to keep her and all of them safe. 

And…

Most of all, there was Thranduil.

Bard didn’t want to put him through the loss of another spouse…  lt would be cruel to do that to him.

“No, Bard.”  Gandalf broke into his thoughts, and said, gently.  “You cannot make this decision from guilt or obligation.”

Bard looked again and the Garden door.  “How do I decide?"

Wise, piercing blue eyes looked at him from under bushy eyebrows.  “What do you really want _,_ my friend?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Gandalf pointed to the study door.  “What is behind that door, that you cannot find in the Halls of Mandos?”

Bard blinked his eyes and examined his heart.  What did he feel?  What could overcome just about any evil?  What was the strongest force in all Arda?

The realization washed over him, and he smiled.

Despite all the things that would hurt him now, and in the future, and despite the despair that would surely enter his life and some point…

… _love_ awaited him, behind that door.  There were no guarantees of happiness, if he went back, but he had to try; he had to take that chance, or he’d regret it for eternity.

Gandalf’s blue eyes twinkled as he smiled.  “You have done well, and I am very proud of you.”  He put his arm around the Bowman and guided him to the door of Thranduil’s study.

“Your life is waiting for you, my friend.” The old man pointed his staff at the door.  “Go on.”

Bard looked at the light oak door, then back at Gandalf. “Thank you.  For everything.”

“Thank me for what?  You made the choice freely, and with your heart.”  The Wizard shrugged.   It is I who owe you gratitude.”

“What do you mean?”

“You won’t know that for many years.  But in the meantime, there’s much to do, isn’t there?”

He reached out, and just before he touched the knob, he asked, “Gandalf?  Will I remember any of this?”

Gandalf just smiled and gave a quick jerk of his head toward the door.

Bard shook his head in amusement, then sighed, as he turned the knob, and went through it with surety and purpose.

 

***************

 

Once he was gone, the Wizard leaned on his staff, and heaved a sigh of relief.

A very beautiful woman, clothed in a long black velvet robe, trimmed with silver and rubies, stepped through the Garden doorway.   She had a diadem of silver on her brow, and it was decorated with small diamonds and onyx stones that complimented her fair skin.  Her long white hair fell in deep waves, almost to her knees.  In each hand, she held a long thread.

“Mithrandir?”  She asked. 

It was Vairë the Weaver, wife of Mandos, the Vala who wove the tapestry of Arda, and all who inhabit it. 

“Bard chose to return to his life.”  Gandalf said, with enormous relief.

Vairë looked at the closed door of Thranduil’s study.  “The King of Dale does not realize how close he came.  My husband finished preparing his rooms; he was only a moment or two away from inhabiting them.”

“I am sorry for that, My Lady, but he had to go back freely and for the right reasons, otherwise, our plans for him would come to naught.”  The Wizard sighed.  “I hated to send him back without knowing if Thranduil will live, but there was no other choice.  Speaking of Thranduil, I have asked, but have been given no instructions.  Does this mean he will be joining you, soon?”

Vairë replied, “No divergent thread has appeared, to weave into the Elvenking’s story, and my husband will have his rooms ready soon.  I am sorry.”  At Gandalf’s stricken look, she tried to offer him comfort.  “If Lord Thranduil is meant to come to our Halls, he will, but take heart; it is out of your hands, and what will be, will be.”

She smiled at Gandalf, held up the crimson thread in her left hand, and flung it out into the air.  They both watched, as the thread floated off into nothingness, as the halls of the Woodland Realm dissolved, until Vairë and Gandalf stood among bright, beautiful stars. 

“Behold, _Mellon_ _n_ _în_ ,” Vairë looked down at the blue thread in her right hand.  “The Bowman has chosen wisely.”

They both watched, as the blue thread in her right hand grew in length and thickness, until it became an unbreakable piece of fiber.

“I am happy for you, Mithrandir.” She patted his arm, and began to walk away, to return to her husband and her duties.

“Vairë?”

“Yes?”

“The Queen Varda has done an exceptional job this evening, don’t you think?”  He gestured at their surroundings.  “I can’t remember such a beautiful Starscape…  Before you return to your labors, would you like to take a walk, and enjoy it with me?”

Vairë laughed, as she carefully placed the blue thread into her pocket for safekeeping, then took the Maia’s arm.  “You can be quite the charmer when you want to be, Mithrandir.”

 

***************

**City of Dale; 17 th of April 2942 T.A.**

“Well?”  Dáin asked.  “How is the lad?”

Two days after the accident, the Chief Healer was examining Bard carefully, as the others looked on, anxiously. 

There was utter silence as they watched Ermon’s hands carefully move from his heart, to his lungs, and over all his organs.  Then he put his hands over Bard’s leg and closed his eyes again, to “see” if the shattered pieces of bone were still in place.

At last, he opened his eyes, and straightened with a sigh.

“Well?”  Percy said, with his arm around Tauriel.  She was standing in between Dáin and Percy, and was pale.

“He is still weak, but here has not been an incident with his heart for an entire day, and his beats are stronger and steady.  His lungs are clear, and his other organs are functioning.”

“Will the lad live?” Dáin demanded.

“He has a long journey ahead of him, and he will need to remain bedridden for at least a month, but yes, I am optimistic that Lord Bard will survive.  This greatly increases Lord Thranduil's chances, as well."

Percy closed his eyes.  “Oh, thank the Stars…  Thank you…”  He whispered, hoarsely, and covered his eyes.

Tauriel covered her mouth with both hands, and let out a sob of relief. 

“Tis good news, lass.”  Dáin told her.  “No’ you go whisper the good news in yer  _Ada’s_ ear; it might help ‘I’m.” He turned her toward the door. “Go on wi’ ye.”

Now that Bard was stabilized, Dáin took quick stock of the situation.   Thranduil was still unconscious in Tauriel’s bed, so he and the Chief Healer conferred briefly, then a Raven was sent back to Erebor.  A wagon arrived in Dale within the hour, bringing two of their best long beds, and everyone set to work.

One of the beds was set up, close to the fireplace, to keep Bard warm, with clean, fresh linens and blankets.  Then, oh, so carefully, they worked a blanket under him and used it to move Bard over to it.  As soon as Bard was settled, the ruined, blood-soaked mattress and rug underneath it, was taken out to be burned.  The big bed frame was taken apart, and removed.

Percy wash and dried Bard’s body, while the Healer and Óin prepared strips of cloth and a thick, starchy mixture.  Together, they carefully encased Bard’s upper leg in a cast that went up the side of his hip and around his waist, leaving his right side open to accommodate bodily functions.  Once done, the Healer coated the cast with hot wax, to help keep it waterproof.

"The cast will serve a dual purpose,” Ermon explained to them.  “His bone was shattered, and although we have pieced the bone together, no Elf is powerful enough to knit small fragments like that.  His only hope of walking without a limp, is to keep his leg completely immobile while time and nature does its work.”

“What’s the other reason?”  Percy asked, as he combed out Bard’s hair. 

“Even after his blood supply is replenished, it takes weeks for it to become strong enough to serve his body properly.  He cannot exert himself, or Lord Bard could suffer a catastrophic setback.”

“So, the cast will keep him in bed, whether he likes it or not?”  Percy couldn’t help but grin.

“It will.  Even after his leg is healed, he _must_ stay in bed.”

“Oh, he’ll _hate_ that.” Percy grimaced.  “But we’ll make sure he follows orders.”

As they settled Bard under the blankets, the other bed was brought in and set up nearer to the window.  Feren insisted he be the one to carry Thranduil in from Tauriel’s room, and to wash and dress him in comfortable clothing.

Soon, the room was tidied and arranged, with both Kings resting on clean sheets and under thick woolen blankets, with bowls of _Athelas_ -infused water freshening the room.

While they were thankful that Bard was showing signs of improvement, they were worried for Thranduil, because he had not.  Even after two days, Ermon could barely find any signs of life; his fëa was almost non-existent.

The Elvenking’s life still hung in the balance, and no one could predict his fate.

 

***************

 

There was water; he could hear the sound of water. 

Thranduil slowly opened his eyes, and sat up on his elbows, to look around.  He found himself lying in his favorite clearing, with the waterfall, and the small pool.  He hadn’t been here since Mírelen was murdered, but it looked exactly the same as the day he wedded her there.

Yet, this place wasn’t quite the same…  it was… more, somehow.  The temperature here was warm, and the sun was shining, and the flowers were bigger and brighter.    Each part of the forest and the clearing was saturated with color.  It looked real, yet unreal, but it was so very beautiful.  Over to his left, Thranduil saw his favorite tree, but it couldn’t be!  That tree was in another part of the forest, nearer to his Palace!

He heard splashing, and he looked toward the pool.  There was something behind the waterfall, and he tried to see what it was that moved.  The shape lowered itself into the water, and swam across the pool, and emerged from the other side.  He saw a head with dark hair emerge from the water, on the side of the pool farthest from where Thranduil was lying.  He sat up fully, and watched as the slim, naked figure stepped gracefully out of the water and onto the grass.  He could tell from the curves of creamy skin, the slim waist, wider hips and the full, rounded bottom, that it was an Elleth, and he watched, as she picked up her linen towel on the grass to dry herself off, and smooth her long, dark hair.  Her back was still facing him, as she pulled on a white robe, but once it was fastened, she stood up straight, and slowly turned to look at him…

It was his Mírelen. 

There she was, standing there, before him, and for the several long moments, Thranduil couldn’t breathe, or even think.

He sat there, staring, then a sob escaped him, as she slowly walked toward him.  He didn’t believe it.  This couldn’t be true!

She stopped and smiled down at him.

“This isn’t real,” was all he could say, in a trembling voice.  “You _cannot_  be real...”

But when she opened her mouth, it was Mírelen’s voice he heard. “Why do you think it is not real, _Tond Âr Nîn_ _?”_  

“How can this be?” He looked around.  “It is winter, yet the sun is warm here, and the flowers bloom, the air is fresh and clean...”

“It is your favorite place, with the things you love most in your forest.”

“Yes, but…  you are here!  Are you not in Valinor?” 

Then he looked down at himself.  He was dressed a white robe, identical to Mírelen’s.  Where were his clothes?

Thranduil was confused, but then a thought occurred to him.  “Have you come to take me to the Halls of Mandos?”

She looked at him, and smiled, saying nothing. 

She was _so_ lovely.  Her long, dark hair had somehow instantly dried into those long, thick waves that caressed her face the way he’d always remembered.  Her eyes were the same velvet-brown caves he wanted to dive into, and never come up for air.  She was every bit as beautiful as the day he first saw her in Elrond’s garden. 

She held out her hand, and he reached out to touch her, but he hesitated, then curled his fingers into a fist.  He was afraid.

Mírelen seemed amused by his hesitation.  “Come, Thranduil.  Walk with me a little.” 

Thranduil got up from the ground stood by her side.  “Where are we going?”

“Wherever you want to take us, _Meleth nîn.”_ For several minutes, they silently made their way through a path in the forest, and enjoyed the beams of light peeking through the bright green treetops. 

Finally, Thranduil couldn’t stand it anymore.  “Why are you here?  Why am _I_ here?”

“ _You_ brought us here.”

“Me?  I do not understand.”  He looked at her, his head shaking.

She looked down with an amused smile, and didn’t answer, as they continued to walk at a leisurely pace.  “I like Bard very much, Thranduil.”

“I didn’t want him to die.  I couldn’t fail him, as I failed you.”

“Do you really believe you failed me?”

“Yes!  I did not save you, and I failed our son, who lost his _Naneth.”_  

“Oh, _Meleth n_ _în;_ you _never_ failed me.  Never!”  She looked up at him, shaking her head in sympathy.   “Why do you say such terrible things?”

“Because I was too late.  I was one moment too late, and you died in my arms!  Do you not remember?”

“And you feel guilt for this.”

He looked over at her, as she walked at his side.  “I did.  I do.”

She stopped and held out her hand.  “Please; take my hand.  Do not be afraid.”

He slowly raised his hand, and touched her palm lightly, then slowly intertwined their fingers.  It felt so real, and so, so soft.  Thranduil put his other hand over his mouth as a sob escape him; he couldn’t help it.  After almost a thousand years of longing for her touch, she was before him, and he was touching her!  He was afraid to ask why, lest she disappear.

“Why do you feel at fault for my death?”  She asked very gently.  “Did you not want to save me?”

“Of course, I did!  I wanted to - with everything in me!”  He cried. “I would have given my own life a thousand times over, to save you... I was a just moment too late, and then you were gone, and I was alone…”  At that last word, he sobbed a little, and covered his eyes.  “I should have saved you…”

“Oh, my brave husband.  Do you not see?  You _did not_ save me, because you _could_ not.  That is not failure!”

Tears were flowing down his face, and they felt cool on his cheeks.  “But… I was so alone, Mírelen…  I missed you so much…”  He brought her hand up and kissed it.  “I thought I would die from the pain of it, and no matter what I did, it wouldn’t go away…”  A tear fell on her hand, then another. 

Mírelen squeezed his hand.  “Thranduil, what happened to me was not your fault, and there is something else you need to know.”  

 Thranduil’s eyes widened. “I do not understand…”

“That Orc attack was carefully planned - it was not some random slaughter.  They were sent by the Dark Lord in Dol Guldur, for a specific purpose.”

“It was me they were after.” Thranduil began.

“No Thranduil, you were not their target.  They were sent to take Legolas from us.”

“Legolas?  He was just a child!” 

“They wanted our son, and for a very good reason.  A War is coming, Thranduil, and our son will be needed. Somehow, Sauron must have foreseen the deeds Legolas will accomplish.  He knows that our son cannot guarantee his defeat, but if Legolas cannot play his part, it will guarantee his victory.”  She looked at him intensely.  “Do you understand?”

“But – “

“The Orcs that killed me, were sent from Dol Guldur, to steal our son.  I have learned that he wanted our boy kept alive - I cannot contemplate what would have happened, had we not saved him. It was Legolas the Orc tried to grab off the horse; not me.  I drew my knife and drove it into his arm, do you remember?”

Thranduil blinked at her a few times, and looked away, thinking of that unspeakable day.  The image of that monster with its hand grabbing her hair, ready to slice her throat, had her jeweled-handled knife sticking out of its arm - she had driven it into the flesh, clear up to the hilt. 

Thranduil hadn’t noticed it then, but he could see it very clearly now.

“You…  stabbed him…”

“Yes.  To protect our son.”

“I do not understand; how do you know this?”  Thranduil looked wide-eyed at his Queen, still not quite believing it.  “Sauron…”

 “No one knew it was Sauron in Dol Guldur, Thranduil.  Not even Mithrandir or Radagast.  But he knew of Legolas, and wanted him, at all costs.  We think that the Dark Lord wanted to turn Legolas into his _thrall;_ to serve him, and use him against us."

Thranduil just stared at her, as struggled to grasp the horror of her words.  “ Did you know it, then?”

“Of course not. I just knew it was continually reaching for our son, and did what any mother would do.”  Mírelen put her hand on his cheek.  “Search your heart, _Meleth nîn._   Can you not feel the truth of what I have told you?”

Thranduil looked into her eyes as he considered her words.  “My foresight only warned me of the War..."  But the more he thought, the more he understood.  She was telling him the truth.  "You saved him from a fate much worse than death."

" _We_ saved him, Thanduil; you and I together."  Mírelen then said, “When that evil creature attacked us, I had to make a choice, just as the young girl, Rhian, had to make a choice, the night the Dragon attacked.  We both chose our child.”  She squeezed his hand.  “I knew I was going to die; but I needed to stall for time, until you could come and save our son.”

He let go of her hand, and stepped back, considering her words.  “But why did _you_ have to die?  Could there not have been a way for you to live, while protecting our son?”

“Not all matters are for the Valar to decide, Thranduil, nor is it even Eru’s.  Creatures of Middle Earth act upon their own will.  The Valar cannot author events as some would like to believe.  We can only do our best, just as I did, and just as you did.  You failed _no one,_ Thranduil, especially me.”  She smiled beautifully up at him, full of gratitude and affection.

“But I wanted to save you!”  He cried, his eyes swimming.

“And you _did_ save me! Legolas is part of me, is he not?” She reached up and wiped the tears off his cheeks.

He was silent, trying to digest all of this.  “If that is true, then I failed you, again.” He told her sadly. 

“Did you?  Since my death, you doubled Legolas’s guard.”

“Well, yes.  I was afraid I might lose him, too."

"And he never went with you on your Autumn Tour, is that correct?"

"For many years, I did not go myself.  I knew everyone would want to tell me how sorry they were for our loss." He hung his head. "I could not bear it."

 “You made sure Galion looked after him, did you not?”

“Galion would have done that, regardless.  He loves Legolas.”

“But, if he had not, would you have seen to it, that our child was given affection and attention?”

Thranduil sighed, “Mírelen, when you died, I turned my back on him.  He has your face, and all I could see, was you, bleeding in my arms..."  His lips trembled.  "I did not know how to stop it."

"I know, my love.  But I do not think that was the biggest reason why you could not be close to anyone."

"What does it matter?" Thrandiul said, "He hates me.”

“Does he hate you?”  She asked patiently.  “Truly?”

“I…  He left...” 

“Thranduil did you _truly_ turn your back on him?”

He sighed.  “I was… distant.  I could not – “

“That is not the same thing, _Meleth n_ _în_.  Your guilt is what caused the distance, Thranduil.  You have allowed it too much power over your life, and you must let it go.”

He knew she was right, and the realization only made him feel worse.

“Come,” Mírelen gently led him to a spot where the light shone brightly through the treetops.  Then she let go of his hand and stepped back.  “Drink in the healing light of the sun, while you consider my words.”  Then she walked a short distance away, and waited.

Thranduil closed his eyes, raised his head and felt the warm sunshine on his face. It felt wonderful and began to fill him with light and energy.  As he basked in the sun’s healing warmth, he thought about Mírelen’s words. 

She was right.  Thranduil had done his best to save his wife; he had no knowledge of the true mission of the Orcs that day, but now that he did, he truly saw the depth of Mírelen’s sacrifice, and honored her for it. 

It was guilt, and shame, that had caused him to avoid his son; it caused him to avoid almost _everything._  Legolas looked so much like his mother, and when he looked at his son, he saw only his failure and his shame, for not saving her.  He had made his grief much worse than it had needed to be. 

The realization of this pierced his heart, but only for a moment.  To hang on to guilt and shame would only cause himself, and others around him, more hurt.  This cycle needed to end, and it had to start with him. 

If he wanted to truly find peace, especially with his son, he needed to let it go.  He was so much better, thanks to all that had happened; he spent hours talking about things with Bard, and Galion and was in a place where he could see things clearly, and now he was ready to take that last, final step.

As he warmed himself in the light, at Mírelen’s behest, it gave him the inner strength to finally let it go.  It was the light that can take this from him, and he welcomed it.  He stretched out his arms, and tilted his head back and allowed it to flow through him, to heal him.

He could see the bright light of the sun through his closed lids, and knew that it was truly healing the part of him he’s struggled with for so long.  Thranduil took a deep, deep breath, and as he let the air out slowly, that terrible, long-held darkness left him forever. 

He put his arms down and opened his eyes, reveling in the peace he felt, and enjoyed the feel of the green grass below his feet.  He looked down and saw he was surrounded by blue flowers – Mírelen’s favorite color.  He reached down and picked several, and went over to her, smiling, and put them in her hair, just like he used to when she was alive.

“You always looked best in this color.  I still have the blue ribbon you wore in your hair the night Legolas was born.”  He told her.

“You do?”  She smiled up at him.

“It is one of my prized possessions, Mírelen.  You took my breath away then,”  He caressed her cheek.  “You are every bit as beautiful now.” He looked into the depths of her eyes and let himself get lost in them, just for a moment…

Mírelen put her hand on his wrist and leaned into his touch. “You were right, you know.”  She said, with yet another enigmatic smile.

Thranduil couldn’t help but laugh.  “About what?”

“About Tauriel.  I would have loved her as my own.  I love her now, because you do.  The day you first held her in your arms, she needed you, but you needed her, much more.  You are a good _Adar_ to her, Thranduil.”

He lowered his hand, looked down at the grass, in shame.  “For almost all her life, I could not give Tauriel what she needed.  I failed her, too.”

“How have you failed your daughter, my love?”

“She loved Kili, the Dwarven Prince.  I said terrible, _terrible_ things to her, then he was killed, trying to save her..."  He ran his hand over his face.  "I should have treated her differently."

“You must let go of that, too, Thranduil.” She caressed his cheek.    Forgive yourself, _Tond Âr Nîn;_ let go of this terrible guilt, because it weakens you.  As with all mistakes, you must learn, change, and move on.  You _must_ , or you cannot be what she needs, now.”

“She is bereft, and I do not know how to make her feel better.”

“Tauriel hurts from the loss of the one she loved, but it will not always be so.  Kili will live in her heart, and she will take comfort in his memory.”

“She will?”

Mírelen nodded her head.  “Kili has been joyously reunited with the family that has gone before him.  He sits in the Halls of his Forebears where he loves her still.”  She smiled.  “One day, Tauriel will tell her daughter of the Dwarf, and when she does, she will smile.”

Thranduil grinned.  “Tauriel will marry?  And have children?”

“When the time is right, she will.  I hope that brings you comfort.”

“Who is her One?”

Again, his question was met with an enigmatic smile.  “Tauriel will face many challenges, but in the end, all her dreams will be realized.”

“What about Legolas?  He is in such pain…”

She squeezed his hand, again.  “Your book and drawings of me will help a great deal, but you must be patient, for he is much like his father, _Meleth nîn._   Legolas needs to face things in his own time, just as you do.  You are wise not to push him, and do not be concerned for his happiness.  Our son will also find his joy, when the time for him is right.”

Thranduil sighed.  “I want that for him, with all my heart.”

“I know you do, my love.  You have always felt things deeply; it is one of your finest qualities; I am glad you can see that, now.”

“So much has changed, Mírelen.  So many things have happened; I hardly know where to begin...”

Mírelen just laughed, as Thranduil closed his eyes again, and enjoyed the sunshine.  He listened to the sound of her laughter, and let it fill his heart with love and light.

 “This is such a perfect place.  So beautiful, so peaceful.” He turned to smile at her.  “ _And_ _you_ _are_ _here_!  I missed you for so many years, and now…”  He shed a tear of joy.  

“I am here.”  She caressed his cheek. “It is a joy to be with you, too.” 

Thranduil lifted his face to the sky again and took in the sweet air and listened to the song of the birds and the songs of the trees. 

“You saved Bard.”

He opened his eyes in surprise and gladness.  “I did?”

“You did.”

“They need him, Mírelen.  I had to make the sacrifice, but I did not know if…”

Mírelen bent down to pick up a rabbit that had hopped into the clearing. “You saved him for his children and for Dale.”    As she stroked its fur, she added.  “I am so proud of you, _Meleth nîn.”_

Bard would live. 

He could go on and be a wonderful father to his children, and be a good King to his people.  Dale would continue, and the Northern Kingdoms would grow, in size and strength, and all the free peoples there would be safe. 

They would be safe, because Bard was safe!

Most of all, Sigrid, Bain and Tilda would have their Da.  

He had done it!

_Thank you, Eru…  Thank you..._

Thranduil closed his eyes and spun around, arms out, laughing with joy and relief, as he let the sounds and smells of this beautiful place fill his senses, and renew his _fëa._

“Bard’s children will not lose him.  That is what you wanted, was it not?”  she asked, as she gently placed the rabbit on the ground and it hopped away.

“Yes!”  Thranduil laughed.  “I had to make sure he stayed, if only one could live.”

Mírelen went over to him, and put her hands on his chest.  “You are so brave, _Tond Âr Nîn_.  It is one of the things I love about you.  Never would you hesitate to give your own life for ones you love.” She smiled up at him with pride.

Thranduil had done just that, and he felt at peace with it.  He had given his life for his people, for the North, and for his beloved husband.  Their children would still have Bard, and he made the sacrifice out of his deep love for them, too. 

Thranduil looked down at his Queen, with her sweet smile, and blue flowers in her hair. He gently lifted a lock of hair from her face, and looked into her eyes.  

“I am ready.”  He told Mírelen.  “I am ready to come with you, now.”  

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Tond Âr Nîn_ – My Tall King – Mírelen’s pet name for her husband, when she was alive.

 

 

NOTES:

The idea of kidnapping Elves, and turning them into spies for the Evil One has a precedent... 

 

 

 

 

> From  _The Silmarillion_ , Quenta Silmarillion, Ch 13, _Of the Return of the Noldor:_
> 
> "Many of the Noldor and the Sindar they took captive...and made them thralls, forcing them to use their skill and their knowledge in the service of Morgoth. And Morgoth sent out his spies, and they were clad in false forms and deceit was in their speech; they made lying promises of reward, and with cunning words sought to arouse fear and jealousy among the peoples... But ever the Noldor feared most the treachery of those of their own kin, who had been thralls...for Morgoth used some of these for his evil purposes, and feigning to give them liberty sent them abroad, but their wills were chained to his, and they strayed only to come back to him again. Therefore if any of his captives escaped in truth, and returned to their own people, they had little welcome, and wandered alone outlawed and desperate."

 


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While our Kings sleep, there is much activity goes on all around them.
> 
> And Thranduil's visit with his beloved wife continues...

 

 

**The Woodland Realm, 17 th of April 2942 T.A.**

Captain Adamar stood outside the Main Gates, of the Woodland Realm, and watched the Raven approach, anxious for news.  Two days earlier, he’d watched, as much of the Army marched to the secure borders of the Realm, while several units of the elite Woodland Guard units disappeared into the trees.

~o0o~

> As much as the Army of the Woodland Realm was meant to be a visible, intimidating force, the Guard prided itself on invisibility and stealth.  For millennia, many residents of the small villages of Elves and Men had no idea of the troops nestled in the trees – they just enjoyed the sounds of bird calls, as their children laughed and played without fear.  They’d never known the names or faces of their silent protectors, and that’s the way the Guardians wanted it.  Adamar’s son, Daeron, and his nephew, Turamarth were Lieutenants in this specialized and talented branch of the military, and although Daeron was here in the Palace taking care of the Royal Family in the King’s absence, Adamar knew Turamarth would soon be ensconced in the trees somewhere outside of Dale, to make sure no one took advantage of their invalid Kings.
> 
> Two days ago, he and the other Captains had been summoned to King Thranduil’s study, and under Seal of Silence, Lady Emëldir and Galion informed them of the tragedy that had befallen their King and his husband.  The protection in the Woodland Realm would be doubled until further notice, and several additional Guardian units will be placed in the surrounding villages.  Once all was in place, a statement will be released to the public, concerning the fate of the two Kings, but not before they could ensure everyone’s safety. 

~o0o~

Now, as the Raven came near, his heart began to pound, in anticipation.  Was there good news, or would life in the Woodland Realm tragically change forever?

At last the Raven alighted on his arm, and he took the message from his leg.  After sending the bird off to get some food and rest, he turned to one of his subordinates.  “Send for Lady Emëldir at once, and ask her to meet me in Lord Thranduil’s study immediately

Whether this was good news or bad, he would deliver this message personally.

After winding his way through the paths and walkways, he reached the door to Galion’s study, and knocked.

 _“Neledho!”_ was Galion’s weary reply.

Adamar opened the door to find the Chief Aide sitting at his desk, which was in complete disarray, and this worried the Captain, as this was uncharacteristic for his King’s Chief Aide.  Galion was always meticulous in everything he did, and was one of the most organized Elves he’d ever met. 

“Are you well, My Lord?” He asked, with great concern.

Galion sighed, and gave Adamar a weak smile.  “I…  cannot seem to concentrate, I am afraid.”  His eyes lowered to the note in Adamar’s hand.  “I hope it is better news today.”

“That is my earnest hope as well, My Lord.” Adamar nodded his head.  “I have sent for Lady Emëldir; she will be here in a few minutes.  Do you know where Lady Hilda is?”

“She is in her rooms, lying down.  She is not getting much rest either: it is draining to keep up a good front for the children.”

“I understand.  I will go get her, if you like.”

The Aide shook his head.  “No; please go into Thranduil’s study and await Emëldir.  I will fetch Hilda myself.”

“As you wish.”

 

***************

 

“Hilda?  _Mellon_ _n_ _în_?”

She felt a hand gently shaking her arm, and she opened her eyes to see Galion hovering over her.  Hilda sat up and blinked.  “What is it?  How long have I been sleeping?”

“Approximately three hours.  Another message has just arrived from Dale.”

“Well?  What does it say?”  Hilda threw back the covers and pulled her shoes on quickly.

Galion gave her a grim smile.  “I confess I am afraid to open it, without you.”

"I know you you feel, love." She looked over at her good friend, and put her hand on his arm.  “Where are the children?”

“Sigrid is in the Healing Hall, Bain is riding with his class in the forest, and Tilda is playing in the Garden with Meriel and some of her friends.”

“Good.”  Hilda heaved a sigh, and smoothed her hair.  “Come one, love.  Let’s face whatever this is together.”

 

As soon as Lady Emëldir arrived and sat down, Galion broke the seal on the message and read:   

> _“Am happy to report Lord Bard’s condition has stabilized, and is expected to live.  Is currently still in a Healing sleep, but heart and lung function much stronger –“_

“Oh, thank Ulmo and all the Valar!”  Hilda collapsed against the back of the couch and covered her face, as she burst into tears.  “Oh, my boy…”

Galion quickly handed her a handkerchief and put his arm around her.  “This is wonderful news, _Mellon_ _n_ _în_.  Wonderful.”

Hilda nodded vigorously, but it was a few minutes before she could calm down, but the others patiently waited, as she wiped her eyes.  “What about Thranduil?  Do they say how he’s doing?”

Galion held up the paper and finished reading it: 

> _“King Thranduil’s condition unchanged, but he is still with us, and attended constantly.  Please continue prayers, as we wait.  Will send back thorough reports with wagons.  -Feren”_

No one spoke for several minutes, until finally Hilda piped up.  “Well, where there’s life, there’s hope, I say.  He hasn’t left us yet, so we’ll just have to keep believing he’ll make it!”

Lady Emëldir looked at Hilda thoughtfully.  “I believe it is time to make an announcement to the Palace residents, and allow them to offer up their prayers, to add to our own.”

Galion looked at Hilda.  “I think we should tell the children something, do you not agree?”

“I’m hate to say it, but I do.  They deserve to know, and now that the Kingdoms are safer, we need to sit down with them.  Let’s make sure Daeron and Meriel are with us when we tell them.”

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 17th through 19th of April, 2942 T.A.**

Feren refused to leave his King’s side, just as Thangon refused to leave Bard’s.  He ate his meals there, and when he slept, it was with Thranduil’s hand in his, keeping Thranduil connected to life here. He talked constantly, telling Thranduil over and over, that Bard will recover, that he had saved his Bowman, so it was time to awaken, and share this joy.

Tauriel joined him, whenever she wasn’t sitting with Bard, or when the Dwarves convinced her to get some air outside.  Since all this happened, she’d been like a living ghost from shock and fear, so Bofur and Óin had taken steps to make sure she ate enough, and made her go to bed when she needed sleep.  Feren was glad they were looking after her; Ermon, and Percy were worried about her. 

While Feren refused to be idle, as he waited on his friend and King.  He set out to remind Thranduil of all his connections to Middle Earth, by singing songs, and sharing memories of their thousands of years together in the Woodland Realm.  He particularly wanted Thranduil to remember the good times, and all the trouble they got into as Elflings:  

> “Do you remember the time you and I crept into the kitchens and stole six cherry pies?  We were almost out the back door when Cook saw us and chased us with a broom?  I thought he was going thrash us within an inch of our lives, if he caught us!  Stars, Thranduil; I still remember how he shouted…” he laughed as he stroked Thranduil’s hair.  “Then our _Adars_ found us up in your favorite tree – I kept telling you that would be the first place they looked, didn’t I?  How many times did I tell you we should find a different spot? - They made us sit at the table right in front of Cook, and eat _every single one_ of them....”  Feren sighed, and shook his head.  “ _Ai!_ We were so sick, were we not? I spent that entire night doubled over with stomach pains…”
> 
> “And even _that_ was not as bad as when we stole the keys to the wine cellar, do you remember that?  Again - you stubborn, ridiculous Elf -  _I_ was the one who told you we shouldn’t take the bottles behind the barn, but no; you wouldn’t listen to me…  It was your fault our _Adars_ found us so easily!  If we had taken the bottles somewhere else, you fool, we could have just slept it off, but there we were, passed out with the empty bottles just lying there…” 
> 
> “Then there was that horrid swill your _Nana_ made us drink!” Feren shuddered. “Galion swore it was a ‘hangover remedy,’ but all I remember is vomiting for days, and having the flaming shits!  Even without that awful stuff, we were sick as dogs...  It is a wonder we survived to adulthood, is it not?"

At this, Feren laughed heartily, and tried to pretend Thranduil was laughing with him, but the Elvenking was cold and still, on the bed beside him.

He also talked to Thranduil of courting his wife, Glélindë:  

> “For months I was making excuses to see her, pretending I needed more clothes, just to see that dimple in her cheek, when she smiled.  I even tore holes in some tunics and leggings myself, so I could take them to her for mending, did I ever tell you that?  If she suspected something, she never said; she just…smiled at me - and there was that dimple - and took them.”  He grinned.  “Personally, I think ‘Lindë did a poor job of mending, just so I would come back…”  Then Feren laughed.  “If that is not love, then I do not know what is.
> 
> "You were so happy with your Queen, Thranduil, and I was thrilled to see you so happy, after losing King Oropher, and all that happened in that terrible War.  She was so remarkable, and you were so good to her.   She knew how much you loved her, and she does now; I know it."
> 
> Feren became serious then.  “I was grateful you insisted on presiding at our marriage feast, Thranduil; though I know it was hard for you.  I had wanted to cancel it, as it was so soon after Mírelen’s death, but you insisted.  Do you remember what you told me?  _‘I am your best friend, and I want to be there for you.  Love is a precious thing, Mellon nîn.  Do not waste time you might later regret, Feren; make her your wife and cherish each moment you have.’_
> 
> “I argued with you, because I thought the sight of Glélindë and I so happy seemed cruel, as if we were rubbing it in your face, and I did not want to hurt you.  I kept saying we could simply marry without the ceremony, but you were determined.  _‘Mírelen would want me to do this; after all, it was she who helped you two get together,_ ’ you said.  Then you showed me these,” Feren held up his hand, showing Thranduil the gold ring.  “The rings you gave us were so beautiful.  Galion told us that Mírelen had picked them out long before I started to court her.  She knew we were meant to be together.”

He talked about his men; about Turamarth, who was almost fluent in Westron now, and his antics when his cousin Daeron came to visit. 

> “Those two were driving everyone mad, Thranduil!  I thought Lord Percy was the one who like to play pranks, but you know how those two are, when they get together…  But do not worry; it was all in good fun, and no one was really angry, because Tauriel had a great deal of fun, with them laughing, and we all knew you would want that.  Still, one could hardly sleep at night from the laughter and noise coming out of their room, so one night, I went and got Ermon, and he went to their door, and threw a _losta-luith_ on the both of them!  They were out for half a day!”

But mostly, he talked about Bard and Tauriel.

> “I knew you were falling in love with him, the moment you saw him, Thranduil.  I’ll never forget the look on your face, when we first rode into Dale that day, and Bard came up to you to thank us for the food and supplies.   You looked like you had been struck by lightning, _Mellon_ _n_ _în_.  Everyone else thought you were rude and haughty, when you spoke of reclaiming your possessions, but I know you too well!   You, my dear Thranduil, were _flustered,_ and though  you did not know why, I did!  When you two first looked at each other, he rattled you, because he fascinated you, and you did not know how to handle it.
> 
> “I admit, I was against it, at first.  I felt it was your duty to keep your commitment to the Realm, but when you told me of Bard’s fate, I saw how foolish I had been.  I do not think I have apologized to you for that. 
> 
> You had found love again, Thranduil, and even if Bard had stayed Mortal, I had no right to keep you from a chance to be happy.  There is no one on Middle Earth who is more deserving; you have proven your loyalty to our people again and again and and if loving him meant you would eventually leave us, you were entitled to the happiness you had found.
> 
> “I have enjoyed getting to know Bard, and I can see why you love him.  He’s a good and trustworthy man, and worthy of you.  Just to see your face light up when he is around, is a joy to me.  And anyone can see how much Bard loves you…
> 
> "I was so glad Galion suggested you adopt Tauriel,” he smiled, “our little _Gwinïg_ caused almost as many headaches as you and I did!  She was so good for you, _Mellon._ There was much weighing you down, but when Tauriel was nearby, you were... _lighter;_ we all could see it.  Even as a young _Elleth,_ Tauriel understood you were sad, and wanted to help you feel better.  
> 
> She misses you Thranduil.  She misses you and Galion and Legolas more than she'll admit, and I am worried for her.   Tauriel like an outsider; she feels left behind, and you **_must_** wake up, so you can tell her how wrong she is!"

Then there were times when Feren couldn’t keep up a cheerful countenance, and tears of frustration fell from his eyes, as he pleaded with his friend not to leave them:

> _“Please, Thranduil!_  Remember how much you love Bard and the children!  Please do not leave them.  Lady Tilda is doing better and better, but she needs her beloved _Ada_.  Bain needs you to help him learn how to be a King, and Sigrid depends upon you more than she lets on.
> 
> “And Tauriel… Long has she waited for her father to show her love and affection!  You cannot leave her; not after losing her parents, then Kili, and Legolas!    She is terrified she will be left alone again, and we are worried for her, Thranduil.  The Dwarves have been looking after her, but she needs her _Ada_.  She needs you!”
> 
> “But more important than anything,” Feren, said as he cried and squeezed Thranduil’s hand and stroked his brow.  “Is that you _must_ come back for Bard, Thranduil!  He has stabilized and Ermon is sure he will get well!  You saved him, _Mellon_ _n_ _în_ , so you must come back so you can be with your husband, your bond-mate!  If for no other reason, _please..._  You must come back for Bard...
> 
> ”You are my best friend, Thranduil.  Do you think _**I**  _will not suffer from your loss?  I have been by your side _all my life!_   I do not remember a time when you were not there!” Feren began to weep.  “Please...   _please_ do not leave me...”  He lay his head against Thranduil’s side and sobbed.  “We all need you...  I need you...”

But there was no change.  He was still cold, his heart was barely beating, and his _f_ _ëa_ remained ever-distant, on the brink of leaving Middle Earth behind forever…

 

***************

 

The children were sitting on a couch in the Royal Chambers, looking at Hilda and Galion expectantly.  Meriel stood by Tilda’s chair, while Daeron stood behind the couch, ready to help.

“What is it?” Sigrid asked Galion and Hilda.  “I know there’s more to the story than just Da breaking his leg.  We want to know, whatever it is.”

“Aye, you’re right, love.” Hilda admitted.  “But the good news is that your Da will be fine; we know this for certain, now.”

“You mean, he could have died?” Bain asked, his eyes like saucers.  “Was he hurt that badly?”

“And you _**knew** this?”_ Sigrid became angry.  “Our Da almost died and _you didn’t tell us?_ How **_could_** you?"

Galion tried to appease her.  “We were under strict orders not to divulge the true condition of your fathers, until certain things took place to ensure everyone’s safety.  We could not risk word getting out, until we knew our Kingdoms were fully protected.”

“I don’t understand,” Tilda said, her eyes beginning to water.  “Why do we need that?”

“Because,” Bain answered for Galion.  “If word got out that something happened to Da, it means anyone could try to steal Dale from us, am I right?”

“You are correct.  The Royal Council decreed that no one be told, until the guard was doubled, here and in Dale, and to protect you, Bain.  If anything were to happen to your Da, you would be King, and we needed to put a plan in place to protect you and your birthright, for the sake of all your people.”

"But, that's just a _place_!" Sigrid stood up, outraged. “He is _our father,_ and we had a right to know!”

"Stop it, Sigrid!"  Bain shouted at her angrily.  "What Galion means is Dale could be attacked, and _people_ _could_ _die_ , don't you understand?  They were making sure no one got killed!"

"Bain and Sigrid,"  Daeron interjected.  "I know you are upset, but you both must calm down, _right_ _now_."  The Elven Guard gestured toward Tilda.  "We do not need to make things worse, do we?"

They looked at each other, then looked down.  "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Sigrid."

"Me too," she told Bain, and sat down again.  "And you're right; what they did made sense."

“But… you said Da was getting better, right?”  Tilda wasn’t convinced.

Hilda nodded.  “Your Da is still in a Healing Sleep, and will be for a couple days more.  This will give his body a chance to get stronger.”

“Oh, thank the Valar.”  Sigrid took a minute or two for that to sink in, but then – “Wait a minute; you said _‘fathers…’_ What does that mean?” she demanded.  “Has something happened to _Ada?_

Tilda's eyes got very wide.  "What's wrong with _Ada?"_ She asked in a small, frightened voice. “Is he sick, too?”

Galion and Hilda looked desperately at Daeron, who went around and squatted in front of Sigrid.  “Do you remember how hard I worked to save Rhian and the baby?”

“Yes…”  Sigrid said, warily.

“And do you remember how much it took out of me?”

“But all you needed was some rest!  You slept for a few days, and you were fine!”  The girl’s lower lip began to tremble. 

“What’s wrong with _Ada_?” Tilda asked, again, becoming agitated, “Can you go wake him, Daeron?"  The little girl began to cry.  "You have to go tell him to get up!"

Meriel picked her up, and sat down in the overstuffed chair, with the little girl on her lap.  “My Lady, I am afraid your _Ada_  cannot wake  up, but he is _still alive,_ so we are going to pray very hard that he comes back to us.”

“But why?”  Tilda asked sobbed.  “I want him to wake up!  Can’t someone wake him up?”

Daeron sighed, and said, “He gave Bard too much of his strength, and now…”

Sigrid began to cry, too, as well as Bain and Rhys. “Why would _Ada_ do something like that?”

“He did it because he loves you all so much.” Hilda came over and put her arms around the young girl.  “ _Ada_ wanted to make sure you didn’t lose your Da, lovey.  He saved Bard’s life for all of you.”

“He did?”  Tilda leaned her head on Meriel’s chest.  “Da would have died?”

“Yes, _Tithen Pen_ ,” Galion told the children.  “Your Da was _very_ badly injured, and even the Chief Healer could not help him.  When your _Ada_ arrived in Dale, he wanted to save Bard, whatever the cost, so your Da could still be with you.”

“But I don’t want him to go…”  Tilda wailed as she burst into tears.  “I w-want _Ada_ to stay!  He can’t leave…”  Meriel held her and murmured soft, comforting words, as the little girl’s body shook with sobs.

Bain wiped his eyes, as Rhys put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “That was a brave thing Lord Thranduil did.”

“Aye,” Bain said, as he sniffed. “It was...” he shook his head.  “NO! I won’t talk as if _Ada’s_ already gone!” he said, angrily.  “He saved Da and he’s still alive, and _I won’t_ think different!”

“You’re right, love.” Hilda leaned over and squeezed Bain’s hand.  “We’ll all do that, all right?” She looked around the room, determined.  “We’ve all been through hard times before, and we’ll get through this, together; are we agreed?  We’ll keep hope in our hearts until the bitter end, right?  No one is gone, and we’ve all got each other.”

One by one, each child nodded his or her head.  

Even Tilda managed to dry her tears and stood up straighter.  “I could draw _Ada_ lots of pictures, so he can see them when he wakes up.  Da, too.”

“That would be wonderful, _h_ _ênig_.”  Galion smiled at her.  “They would love that.”

“And I’m going to write some long letters,” Sigrid announced,  “so Tauriel can read them to Da and _Ada_.  I don’t want either of them to forget why they’re  fighting so hard.”

“Me too.”  Bain said.

"I want to help, too." Rhys said.  "Lord Thranduil's been really nice to me, and..."  The boy began to rub his eyes, so Hilda went over and put her arms around him, "Shh...  Thranduil thinks the world of you, Rhys; we all do."

“I want you to remember something else.” Hilda looked around the room at all the children.  “No matter what happens, now or _ever,_ you kids will all be safe, and well looked after for your whole lives.  We will always take good care of you, so you don’t ever have be afraid of that, do you understand?”

“That is correct, children,” Galion smiled and nodded his head. “We will never leave you alone, I hope you know that.”

Sigrid got up and hugged the Aide.  “Thanks Uncle Galion.  I love you.”

“And I love you, child.”

“So, that’s that,” Hilda wiped her eyes and stood, and with her usual flair, put everyone to work.  “We’ve got a few hours until dinner, so what do you say we gather around the table and get some things ready to send to Dale, aye?  Tilda, go with Meriel to get your colored pencils; Sigrid, fetch the inkwell and some extra pens.  Rhys?  Could you go and fetch lots of paper?  We’re going to cover the walls of that room in Dale with so many things, they can’t forget us!”

Daeron stood up.  “Galion and I will go and help Lady Emëldir announce the news to the Palace.”

“You do that, but then come back for dinner, both of you.”

“Auntie Hil?” Sigrid asked. “Can Rhian and the baby come this evening?”

“I think that would be grand.  The more the merrier, I say, and little Darryn will surely lift everyone’s spirits.”  Hilda told her. 

“I’m sorry for getting mad.” Sigrid went to her and Galion and embraced them both. “It must’ve been torture, keeping all this to yourself.”

Galion stroked her hair.  “More than you can possibly know, My Lady.  It still is.”

“I know,” the young girl told him.  “But this time, we’ll do it together, and whatever comes…”

“I think tonight, we’ll all go outside and talk to the stars,” Hilda suggested.  “We’ll ask Varda to look after your _Ada_.”

“We’ll do that.” Sigrid agreed. “I hope it helps.”

So after the letters and drawings were ready, and dinner was over, the group went out into the starlight.  Looking up, the Elves sang songs and they all prayed together for the Kings they loved.

 

***************

 

“I am ready.”  Thranduil told Mírelen.  “I am ready to come with you, now.”

She tilted her head, always smiling, and pointed to the path ahead of them.

“Do you _want_ to come with me, Thranduil?”

He stopped to looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Mírelen didn’t say anything, but walked away from him, then turned, holding her hands together patiently.  “You must go where your heart tells you, _Tond Âr Nîn.”_  

He was surprised by her words, but he found himself yearning to stay with her, in this beautiful, sunny place, with the flowers and the birds and the fresh smell of the wind through the trees...  It was so wonderful!  His Mírelen was here with him, and she was as beautiful and strong and kind as she had always been.

He had ached to be with her for centuries, and _here she was_!  Her cheeks felt smooth, her hands were soft, and her raven hair shone brightly in the sun.  He’d missed the soft curves of her body, and the dark, velvet pools of her eyes.  He’d missed the sound of her laugh, the sight of her smile... How many centuries had he ached for what was standing in front of him right now?

He could stay with her, and Bard would still go on, for his children, for his people, and for Dale.  He also knew that Bard would find a way to be happy again, somehow, but the important thing was that Bard would live!  He had done it!  The children would not be left alone, and his beautiful Bard would go on to be a wonderful King.

 Bard.  _His_ Bard.  He felt a rush of joy, just thinking of him.

He thought of the tall, beautiful Bowman, with eyes the colors of his favorite tree…  Thranduil turned away from his wife, and looked; that very same tree was just ahead.  He walked over to it, and the branches waved a friendly greeting to him.  He grinned, and put his hand on its trunk, and thought more about man who had captured his attention, then his heart. 

Bard had been so… _unexpected_.  He brought love, laughter, joy, and ecstasy back into his life, and he was grateful.  He loved him.  He always would.

Then the Elvenking looked over at the dark-haired beauty before him.  She was still looking at him with a peaceful, serene smile.  He could find solace and rest, after such an ancient life on Middle Earth. A life that held joys for him now, but he knew how fragile that happiness could be, and the horrible burden of being left behind.  Was he truly ready to face all that?  His life on Middle Earth was full of burdens, and more often then not, those years had been painful.  

Could he go through a War again?  Could he face the death, the destruction?

Was he ready to stand at the graves of Sigrid, or Bain?  Or his precious _Tithen Pen_?  They would leave him behind.  Could he knowingly face that pain?

He could stay here with her, and enjoy a life filled with sunshine, and trees, and clean air and beautiful flowers.  There would be no strife or conflict, no enemies; just… _peace._   He could choose this, he would enjoy it, and be content.

But, what about Tauriel?  And Legolas?  If he went with Mírelen now, there would be no chance to heal the wounds between him and son.  His wife wanted that for the both of them; he wanted it for himself.

Could he live with himself, if he abandoned his Kingdom and left his people leaderless?  Could he face his father, knowing he had a choice, but turned away?

No.  It was not who Thranduil Oropherion was.  He _would_ _not_ choose to walk away, and leave his people to fend for themselves.

And then there was Mírelen herself, to consider.  He loved her, very much.  But hadn’t he recently come to understand how that had changed?  He didn’t love her with the passion and urgency that he once did.  When he looked at her now, she represented rest, a release, solace and comfort.  Those were not bad things at all, and he really could find contentment with her…

But a life with Bard…   Thranduil smiled to think of all that could be: full of passion, of pain, of urgency, of arduous work, of fullness, of children, grandchildren, setbacks, surprises and joy.

… and a deep and possessive love that could only be found in the arms of his strong, kind, funny, Bowman, who looked wild and savage when he woke up in the morning, and feral and utterly beautiful, when their bodies were joined, bringing each other to completion. 

It was Bard. 

For Thranduil, it will always be Bard. 

No matter what happened, no matter where his life took him, there could be no other, and he didn’t want to miss a minute of a life at his Bowman’s side, however brief that life might be. 

And he knew in that moment, he wanted to go home.

Thranduil let out a sigh of relief; there was no decision to make, really.  He knew where he belonged, and when he turned and saw Mírelen’s face, he realized she also knew it.  She had known it all along, and was happy for him. 

He grasped both of her hands, kissed them, and held them to his chest, as he looked into her eyes.

“Are you _truly_ happy, Mírelen?” he asked her, urgently.  “Is there joy in your life, now?”

“Fear not for me, Thranduil.  I am very happy, and I have a wonderful life.”  She reached up, and stroked his hair around his face. “I am so proud of you, _Meleth nîn_.  You saved our son, and you serve our people with honor and courage.  You are tender and loving to Bard and your new children, and it brings me much joy to see you in bliss, again.”  When she caressed his cheek, he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. “You have everything I could possibly wish for you, _Meleth n_ _în_.”

He gazed into the dark pools of her eyes, and lost himself, one last time.  “I will _always_ love you, Mírelen.”

“And I you, _Tond Âr Nîn._   You were the best of husbands, Thranduil; you loved me well, as I did you, for many years.  I treasure each memory with you and our son, but be at peace; your destiny now lies with the one who fully has your heart now, and I wish you joy.”

Thranduil took her face in his hands, then slowly bent his head and kissed her.  Her lips were soft and warm, the way he remembered them, she felt wonderful in his arms, inhaled he breathed in the scent he had missed so much.  As he lifted his head and smiled at her, he felt completely sure that their time was over.

“I love him, Mírelen.” He told her, and it felt good to say it.  “I love him more than I ever thought possible.”

“Of course, you do, Thranduil,” she smiled widely at him, “You’ve always given your whole heart.  Treasure your Bard, with my blessing.”

She became serious for a moment.  “Thranduil, I must tell you something important about our son…”

“Yes?” He became uneasy. “What is it?”

“As I have said, the Great War is coming, our son has a vital task in this, although I do not know what it will be.  When the time comes, you _must_ allow him to go where his heart leads, and not try to stop him.  Please; you must remember my words, and let him go, or all will be lost.  I say this, because Legolas will face great peril, Thranduil, and he may not survive it.  You _must_ be ready to send him, even if it to his own death.”

“Could I not go in his stead?  I cannot send our son to die…”

“I understand, _Meleth n_ _în_ , and I know you are afraid, but you will be faced with perilous tasks of your own, and you must not to lose yourself in worry over Legolas.  You must use all your focus to look after our people, and the forest.  When Legolas asks to leave, Thranduil, you _must_ support and encourage our son, as he faces his own doom, whatever that may be.”

After a sigh, Thranduil agreed.  “I will do as you ask; I promise.  For Middle Earth’s sake; not my own.  I would have him with me.”

“I know this, _Meleth n_ _în_.  Before he leaves you, tell Legolas this:  I will send love and light, to help you both.  Look to the stars and think of me, and I will bring you and Legolas comfort.”

“I will,” he promised.  “So much has changed in my life, since you left…” he shook his head in wonder.

“And more changes are coming, _Tond Âr Nîn._  You were wise to wonder at the blessing of Eärendil; the Valar will be sending help for this War, in ways you least expect.”

“How?”

She shook her head.  “You will find out when the time is right.  Bard has a role to play in this War, as well.  He is no longer fully a Man, and he will use this to save his people, when the time comes.”

”Do you know how?”

”I do not.  But you must encourage him to look for signs, and he will know.”

Then she added, “Thranduil, be sure to give Tauriel your support.  This has been especially frightening for her.”

Thranduil’s heart wrenched.  This was another reason to go back, and he was glad of it.  “I want to make up to her for all those years.”

“She will be in fragile state for some time to come, so treat her with care, _Meleth n_ _în_.”

“Can I tell her about you?” he asked.  “Would that be permitted?”

“It is, and it will help her a great deal.  Tell her she is very much loved, and her birth parents, Neldor and Solana, watch over her, as do I.”

Then she reached up to embrace him, and they held each other for several moments. 

“I have loved this time with you, Thranduil.”

“And I have loved seeing you again.” He whispered into her hair. “Thank you, for everything.”

“It is time.”  Mírelen stepped back, and pointed further down the path.  “When you and your Bard reach the White Shores, I will be there to welcome you.” She gave him one last, brilliant smile.  “Go now _Meleth nîn;_ your Bowman awaits you.”

After giving Mírelen a last, loving look, he turned to face the path from whence they came, to begin his journey.  At first, he walked, but his eagerness to be with his Bowman became too much, and he began to run, with joy filling his heart.

He was running back to his life. 

Back to his Bard.

 

***************

 

**The City of Dale; 20 th of April 2942 T.A.**

Feren was bathing Thranduil’s face with the _Athelas_ water, and singing to him, when he noticed a slight change in the Elvenking’s breathing pattern. 

“Thranduil?”  He asked anxiously, as he took his hand, and waited.  “ _Mellon_ _n_ _în_?”

Alun was sitting with Bard, feeding him some broth.  He dipped the hollow reed into the cup, and when the straw was put to his lips, his finger lifted on the top, putting the drops into his mouth.  “What’s wrong?” the man asked.  “Oh, gods… is he…”

 “No.  I think he is waking up.” The Commander told him.

Alun was on his feet in an instant.  “I’ll fetch the others.” Then he rushed out and ran down the corridor.

Feren put his hand on his friend’s chest and watched him closely.  “Thranduil?  Can you hear me?” he asked. Yes. He was definitely taking more air into his lungs with each breath.

The Chief Healer came rushing in, followed by Percy.

Ermon quickly went to the other side of the bed, and lifted Thranduil’s hand.  “He is not as cold, and his flesh appears solid.  I believe you are correct Feren, but we must very cautious and not hurry this process,” he warned them.  “I have never seen an Elf lose so much and live, so I want him to take all the time he needs, to wake.”

 _“Gûr nîn be hen.”_   Feren agreed. “Can I still talk to him?”

“You can, but very softly, and use gentle, encouraging words only.”

Tauriel came rushing in.  “What happened?” She ran to the side of her _Ada’s_ bed, and took his hand.

The Dwarves had made her go out and get something to eat, and Bofur and Dwalin insisted she walk them, to get some air and exercise.  When the Elven guard found them, she ran back to the Great Hall as fast as she could, with the Dwarves close behind.  Dáin was waiting anxiously by the door.

“Is he…”

Feren grinned.  “He is beginning to wake up, _Gwin_ _ïg_.”

She ran to stand by the Commander.  “ _Ada_ , it is Tauriel and I love you.  Please… come back to us.  Bard is here, and I know you want to see him.” She smiled, as a tear fell. 

For several minutes, Feren held Thranduil’s hand and whispered to his friend, as Tauriel lovingly stroked his brow, as they waited for him to finish his journey back.

“He squeezed my hand!”  Feren cried.  “Thranduil…  it is Feren, Lord Percy is here, Bard is here, and we all need you to come back to us.  Can you wake up _?”_

 _“Ada,_ can you hear me?” Tauriel whispered.  “I am here, _Ada_ …”

They watched as Thranduil slowly blinked awake, and his eyes begin to focus on the ceiling above him.

“Thranduil?” Feren said, again. “You are going to be fine.  We are all here and,” his voice wavered, “we are so very happy to see you open your eyes.” The Commander swallowed hard, as his throat tightened.  “You need to take your time, _Mellon_ _n_ _în_.  Can you hear me?” 

The Elvenking slowly turned his head toward the Commander.

“Wh…?”  Thranduil, whispered roughly, looking at him.  “Bard…”

Ermon stepped up so Thranduil could see him.  “Welcome back, _Aran n_ _în_.  Can you tell me how you feel?”

“I am…” he croaked.  “Bard?”  His eyes widened with worry. “Wh…”

“Turn your head in the other direction, My Lord, and you will see him yourself.”  He squeezed Thranduil’s hand, and gestured to his left. 

Thranduil turned his head, slowly and blinked several times.  Finally, his eyes focused, and there was his husband.  Bard was on a narrow bed by the fire, covered with blankets up to his neck.

 “Is he?” He managed to say.

Feren sat on the side of Thranduil’s bed, and took the Elvenking’s hand in both of his, as he said, “Thranduil, you did it.  You saved him.  _You got to him in time._   Do you understand me?

“He will… live?”

The Chief Healer said, “My Lord, there has been no sign of infection, and his fever has been minimal.  He is in a Healing Sleep, but I believe he will recover, thanks to you.”

The Commander stroked his King’s brow and smiled, and said again.  “You saved him.  You got to him in time.  Do you understand what I am telling you?  You did it!   _You got to him in time to save him.”_

“So… it was all true…”  And Thranduil began to weep with relief.  “She said he would live.”

Feren didn’t understand what his best friend was talking about, but he didn’t care.  He lowered his head, and shed a few tears of his own. 

Tauriel held her _Ada’s_ hand to her cheek and also wept with joy and relief.

 

***************

 

Thranduil couldn’t take his eyes off Bard.  As he listened to Feren’s words, he couldn’t stop the tears.  It was all too much; the accident, the fear, then… Mírelen. 

He remembered seeing her, and all that she said came rushing back to him, and his heart swelled at the memory of all she had done to help him, and how happy she was for him...  Thranduil swallowed several times, not able to speak, and sent up a silent prayer. _Thank you,_ he told Mírelen, knowing, somehow, she could hear him.  Bard will live, which meant Thranduil would also live…

And the children… she urged him to look after Tauriel…

He looked around weakly.  “Tauriel?”

She appeared before him, her face wet with tears, and squeezed his hand.  “I am here, _Ada_.” She smiled.

He slowly lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.  “I love you, _Gwin_ _ïg_.  My daughter…”

She burst into tears.  “Oh, _Ada_ …” She leaned over him and hugged him.  “I love you, too.  I was s-so afraid you would leave me…”

“I… am here.” He whispered.  “I will never leave you, _Iellig._  I love you...” 

He wanted to tell her all the Mírelen had told him about her, but that would have to wait until they were in private, and he was stronger.

He was so tired…

“Would you like something to eat?” Feren asked him, “Or some water?”

An authoritative voice answered. “He can have both, just as soon as I make sure the King is all right.” Ermon checked his heart, lungs and everything else.  “I am currently keeping your glamour in place to prevent infection, but it is not nearly as effective as when you do it yourself.  Does it hurt?”

Thranduil nodded.  “Yes, but it is better than open air.”

“We can remedy that.  Master Óin has made something to put on it to help with the pain, until you gain enough strength, and I will give you some willow bark tea, with a few drops of poppy syrup, along with some broth.” The Chief Healer put his hands on his hips.  “Then, you will sleep, My Lord.  If you argue, I will put you under myself.  We almost lost you, too, and I will not allow _any_ more risks to either of your lives, is that clear?”

Thranduil couldn’t help but smile.  “You sound like Hilda.” He said, weakly.

“I shall take that as a compliment.  She is a wise and formidable woman.  Now, do not move until I get your medicine.”   He left, then quickly returned with the concoction, and made sure he drank it all, then he relaxed on the bed, still looking at Bard.

“You have another visitor, _Mellon_ _n_ _în_.” Feren said with amusement in his voice.

A giant canine head appeared in Thranduil’s line of sight, then Thangon hoisted his front paws on the bed and rested his head on his chest.  The Elvenking smiled and stroked the dog, and whispered. _“_ _Bardya rehta_ _lyë_ _; hantanyet órenyallo, Thangon.”_

Thangon whined, and reached up to lick Thranduil’s face, making him laugh.

Tauriel came over and grabbed his collar. “Come on; _Ada_ needs his rest,” and she gently urged the dog back down.  Then she scratched behind his ear, which produced a grateful moan from the dog. “You can fuss over him later, when he has slept some more, all right?”

Tauriel sat back down in the chair, and continued to pet the dog, as she told him about Thangon’s efforts to prevent Bard’s injury.  “Thangon had been agitated and grabbed Bard’s sleeve and then his wrist, but I do not think Bard understood what the dog was trying to tell him.”

“Thangon,” Thranduil looked down at the dogs large, soulful eyes.  “We shall make sure Bard heeds you from now on.  Together, we shall keep him safe, and if he does not listen to us, I shall ask the Lady Hilda to take a strap to him.”  Thangon wagged his tail and barked softly, then went over to eat his food.

“I am glad to see him with an appetite, once more.” Tauriel said.  “He has suffered much.”

“You have suffered too, my _Gwin_ _ïg_.” Thranduil stroked Tauriel’s red hair.  “I am sorry you were frightened.”

“But you are here.” She sniffled.  “I have not lost you.”

“When I have rested more, please remind me to tell you something.” He said.

She looked at him curiously, but then a noise from the doorway caught her attention.  “Oh, look.”

It was a guard, bearing a tray, with a bowl of broth and a few pieces of bread.

“Ermon says your first meals should be bland.” Tauriel told him. “And no wine.  And you must drink a lot of water.”

“Oh.” he said, dismally.  But he found that, after his trip to the necessary (which was worth it; he was horrified to see the urinal the Chief Healer had provided, so he urged Feren to help him, before Ermon tried to stop him), he had no real strength left.  After Tauriel spoon-fed him the broth, and he finished two glasses of water, he was ready to lay back down again.

Tauriel was concerned, as she tucked him in.  “Will you be all right?”

The Healer answered peeked his head in.  “He will be, if he gets more rest.”

“I promise.” He smiled at Ermon. “Thank you for your help.”

“Think nothing of it.  I am only glad to see you awake, even if it is not for long.”

Tauriel asked, “May I sit with him, until he falls asleep?  I will be quiet.” 

Thranduil kissed her hand.  “I would love nothing more, _Gwin_ _ïg_.  I am so happy to be with you, again.” He looked up at Ermon.  “Could she stay?”

The Healer nodded, and went over to Bard to check him over, then left.

After Tauriel adjusted her chair, so Thranduil could see his Bard, he sighed and fell back asleep, holding his daughter’s hand.  Tauriel stayed by his sideand Thangon put his head on her lap, to keep Tauriel company, until she, too fell asleep.  

 

Some time later, Ermon once again found Tauriel asleep with her head on the mattress, holding her Ada's hand to her wet cheek, only this time they were happy tears.  As before, he found an extra blanket and wrapped around her shoulders, and as he stroked her brow, sent up his own prayer of thanksgiving, that his beloved King did not die. 

And for the first time in five days, Ermon, Chief Healer of the Woodland Realm, went to his room and  _finally_ had a good night's sleep.

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Tond Âr Nîn_ – My Tall King – Mírelen’s pet name for her husband, when she was alive.

 _Gûr nîn be hen_ – I agree with you

 _Neledho –_ Enter (command)

 _Bardya rehta_ _lyë_ _; hantanyet órenyallo, Thangon –_ (Quenya) You saved my Bard; I thank you from my heart, Thangon.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Palace gets the good news about Thranduil, and everyone there celebrates. A few days later Bard wakes up, much to Thranduil's relief.

 

**The Halls of Mandos, 20 th April, 2942, T.A.**

“My Lord, My Lady,” Gandalf bowed low before Námo and Vairë, who were sitting on their thrones in the halls of Mandos.  “Pardon the intrusion, but I wanted to thank you for your help, and to ask, if I could speak with the Lady Vairë for just a moment.”

“Of course,” the Lord of Mandos nodded his head, but made no move to leave, which amused his wife.

“I am glad of King Thranduil’s choice,” she got up from her throne and walked toward him.  “I must tell you that in his case, it was also a close call.”

“It was,” added Mandos.  “I was sure he would go with Queen Mírelen; I underestimated his feelings for the King of Dale, it seems.”

“I did not; they are true bond-mates, My Lord.” Gandalf told Námo.  “Did you not know of Mírelen’s petition to King Manwë and Queen Varda?”

“You must excuse my husband, Mithrandir.” Vairë laughed.  “He despises paperwork, and will do almost anything to get out of reading the reports from Valinor.”

“I am afraid that is true,” Námo admitted, sheepishly. “What did she ask of them?”

“To release them from their bond.  She cited the precedent for those who have killed a creature of Morgoth and reminded them that both Thranduil and Bard deserve a special reward.”

 “That was clever of her,” Mandos agreed. “When she was with us, she had some rather radical ideas about changes that should be made in the running of things, and she was very strident concerning her beliefs, particularly regarding relationships between Elves and Men.  Personally, I think she was a breath of fresh air, Mithrandir; we’ve all become too set in our ways, particularly on Middle Earth.”

“I remember that,” Vairë laughed.  “Very strong-willed, she was.  She also expressed displeasure at the tendency of the Elves to isolate themselves from not only other races, from each other.   Some saw her as rebellious, and most blamed Lord Elrond for her ecumenical ideas, but I believe she made a great deal of sense, not just for her, but for all Elves; particularly if it will help guarantee Sauron’s defeat.  There is much that can be accomplished if Manwë will take them seriously.”

“That is true,” Námo agreed.  “But much of that must be up to Eru himself, before things change.”

“I believe the Eru Ilúvatar has seriously considered her proposals.  In fact, he allowed Bard’s wife to contact him – something that has never happened before.  Her name was Matilda of Laketown.”

“He did?” Both the Lord and Lady were taken aback, and looked at each other in wonder.

 “You are correct in your assessment that times are changing, My Lord,” Gandalf advised. “I would strongly suggest you start reading those reports, so you can keep up.”

“I will do that, to be sure.”  Námo shook his head.  “For millennia, all those reports were dull and predictable, it will be good to shake things up a bit.”

“You will enjoy them, My Lord, and we must keep up with the times, since Sauron’s final challenge in Middle Earth is fast approaching.”  Gandalf warned.  “If it is true that the rules are changing, you are about to be very busy.”  He turned to Vairë, “My Lady, could I possibly see the thread from the future Thranduil chose?”

“Of course, Mithrandir; you are just in time - I was going to put it in his tapestry this afternoon.”

She held out a purple thread. “The other was also red, but disintegrated a few minutes after Thranduil left Mírelen.”  

They both looked down, and were relieved to see that, much like Bard’s blue thread, it grew in length and circumference.

“Unbreakable!” Gandalf leaned heavily against his staff in relief.  “They both will be all right; that is truly wonderful news.”

“They will.” She smiled.  “They will face many dangers, but they will leave Middle Earth together on a ship at the Grey Havens.  It is not known when, but rest assured, neither will be a resident in my husband’s halls.”

“Thank you,” Gandalf bowed low, again. “I must take my leave of you, and I thank you for your time.”  He turned to leave.

“Mithrandir?”  Námo called out to him.

“Yes, My Lord?” 

The Lord of Mandos stepped down from the dais, and came to the Wizard with a smirk. “Is it true you took my wife for a walk amongst the stars?”

Oh, Námo, really!” Vairë laughed.  “Surely you are not jealous?”

Gandalf smiled, “I assure you, my intentions were honorable; it was a lovely Starscape, and I am sure your wife would have much rather gone with you.”

“In that case, I will make a point to take her more often.” The Lord of Mandos promised, looking down at his wife, with a loving smile.

“Good,” Vairë stood up and tiptoe and kissed his cheek. 

Gandalf laughed at the two of them.  “I would love to stay and visit, but I’m afraid I must take my leave.  I must make ready to go to Rivendell very soon.”

“Please give Lord Elrond our best, Mithrandir.”  Námo told him.

“Farewell, my friends.”  And with that, the Wizard left, to go back to work.

 

***************

**The Woodland Realm, 21 st April 2942 T.A.**

Hilda crashed into Galion’s office.  “What does it say?” She demanded.  “I saw the Messenger run in here…”

Galion clutched the paper in his hand.  “Should we send for the children?”

“No.  If it’s bad news, I won’t let them find out like that; we’ll need to prepare ourselves, first.”

“True,” Galion agreed, then sent the Messenger to fetch the head of the Council.

“I’m not waiting,” Hilda declared.  “Open that thing up and tell me what it says!”

Galion broke the seal, and his lips moved silently as he read the Tengwar script.  Then he grasped the arm of his chair and fell into it, weeping.

“Oh, no…”  Hilda grabbed her chest, in terror.  “Oh, Gods…”

Galion was quickly on his feet. “No… you do not understand…” he tried his best to get the words out. And she grabbed both his arms.  “He… w-woke up…  Thranduil will be all right!”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, then they fell into an embrace and _finally,_ after five long days, allowed themselves to weep, and let their sorrows go.  Neither one of them could let down, for fear they couldn’t keep strong for the children, and as each day wore on, it became harder and harder, as they comforted frightened and weeping children, and tried to keep their minds busy.

Lady Emëldir entered and saw them, and quickly went over to them.  Galion still couldn’t talk, but he handed the paper to her.  She took it, and once she understood, she went over to the couch and sighed in relief, as she covered her mouth.  “ _Na vedui! De fael a vilui, Belain_ ,” she murmured.  “ _De athae, Eru Ilúvatar, a Elbereth Gilthoniel_ …”  

Daeron came rushing in, and looked alarmed.  “Is he…”

“No, thank the all the stars in the sky, and Varda who created them,” Hilda said, as she finally got herself under control.  “He woke up, and the Healer says he’ll recover, too.”

The Guard heaved a huge sigh of relief, then looked at Emëldir. “Are you well, My Lady?”

“Yes, I am; I am very relieved.  I will sit here for a moment or two, then the announcement must be made to the Palace.  I suggest you get the children from their classes, to give them the good news in person.”

Daeron looked at Hilda, who nodded her assent.  “Those kids need a holiday, and we’re going to celebrate all day.”

“Did the message say anything about Lord Bard?” the Guard asked.

“Just that he is still in his Sleep, but his vital signs continue to improve.” Galion replied.  “I do not know when they will wake him.”

“I am sure it will be soon.”

“As long as he’ll be all right; that’s all I care about.  They’ve got his whole side in a splint, and he’s going to be a miserable cuss when he wakes up and finds he can’t move.”  Hilda shook her head and laughed.  “I’d say ‘poor Bard,’ but I really feel sorry for anyone who has to try to keep him abed.”

No one argued with that.

 

***************

The entire Palace was celebrating the good news, but in the Royal Chambers it turned into a real party.  

Daeron had rushed to the Dining Hall to get the children from their classes. “Galion and Lady Hilda need to speak with you right away.” He told them.

Their first reaction was fright.  “What is it?”

He said, “Let us hurry, and you will find out.  Come on, Tilda,” he went to pick her up. “We need to make haste, and you cannot run.”  The little girl was hardly using her chair now, but she was not allowed to exert herself, so after Daeron put her on his hip, they all jogged to the door of the chambers and ran in, where Hilda and Galion were waiting.

“What?  What happened?”  Sigrid demanded.

Galion was going to have the children sit, but at the sight of their frightened faces, he thought better of it.  “Your _Ada_ woke up this morning, children, and he will recover, although it will take a bit of time.  Your father is still in a Healing Sleep, but the message says he grows stronger yet.  Neither is in any danger.”

Sigrid burst into tears, as Hilda rushed to hold her.  Daeron hugged little Tilda, and the boys ran to Galion.

“It’s really true?” Bain asked him.  “They really will be okay?”

“Yes.  It is true.”  Galion said.  On impulse, he held Bain to him, “I know we were all frightened, but we do not need to worry.” 

Rhys stood beside his friend, smiling, and Galion reached out to hug him, too.  “King Thranduil means a lot to you, I know.”

“He does,” Rhys said.  “I’m so glad he’s going to be all right.”

Hilda let go of Sigrid, and dried her eyes.  “Lady Emëldir is arranging a feast in the Dining Hall tonight, and we’ll all go.”

“Aye,” Bain said. “The people need to see us.” 

“You are thinking like a future King, _Gwiôn_.” Galion smiled down at the boy. “Yes, we will all attend this feast and lead our people in celebrating this wonderful news.

Bain looked up at him, seriously.  “You must have felt awful, Galion.”

“I did, Bain, but I knew your Da and _Ada_ wanted me to concentrate on looking after you children, so I tried to honor their wishes.  It helped a great deal to know that I was doing something to help, even if it was far away.”

“I’m glad you did.  It would have been too hard on Tilda, especially.”

“You are very smart, Bain.”  Galion said to the boy, who had grown much these past several months, and not just in height. 

Tilda, still in Daeron’s arms suggested.  “We should have a party here.”

“Wonderful idea!” Hilda agreed, and went to the door, to find Ruvyn and Ivran standing outside.  “You’ve looked after Thranduil since before even my great-grandmother was born.  Get in here,” she ordered.  “This is just as much your good news as everyone else’s.”

“Thank you, My Lady,” Ivran bowed to her.  “Shall I get Rhian and baby Darryn, first?”

“Excellent idea.  Do that, but then come right back.  Come on in, Ruvyn.” 

“I’ll go see about some food and drinks,” Galion said, and left.

Everyone was chatting and laughing happily, when there was a knock on the door.

 **“** Rhian!  Come in!”  Sigrid opened the door wide, to allow the girl, along with Indis and, of course, baby Darryn. 

Rhian embraced her friend. “We heard the good news, and wanted to tell you how happy we were for you.” 

“For us all,” Indis added.  _“Mê g'ovannen, Daeron,”_ she said to her nephew, who was with Tilda and Meriel.

“ _Suil, Tîrana Indis!_ ”  Daeron came over and kissed his Aunt’s cheek, and smiled at Rhian and Darryn.  “It is wonderful news, is it not?”

“It is.”  Rhian smiled up at the handsome Guard.  “I can’t begin to think how hard this must have been for you.”  She impulsively handed Darryn to Sigrid, and to his great surprise, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug.

Rhian didn’t flinch anymore from contact with those she trusted, but still, Daeron froze in shock and amazement at her impulsive show of affection. After a second, Daeron hugged her back, and couldn’t stop himself from burying his face in her neck, and inhaling the sweet smell of her hair.  It was the first time he’d ever touched her, outside of his capacity as Healer, and he reveled in the feel of her.  She felt so solid and warm in his arms, and it took all his effort to step back and remain casual, and he struggled to find his voice.

“It is a good day for all of us, is it not?”

“A wonderful day, especially for the children.” She looked up at him with her bright green eyes.   What is Lord Bard’s condition, do you know?”

“He remains asleep, but that is the normal course of treatment, just as you were put under after Darryn’s birth.  His body needs complete rest.”

“I know I’ve thanked you for helping me with Darryn, but I feel like I can’t say it enough.”  Rhian smiled up at him.  “You’re our hero.”  She caressed his cheek, before nodding her head toward the Royal Family.  “You’re their hero, too.”

Daeron took her hand from his face and kissed it then held it in both of his.  “I am honored by your words, _Mellon_ _nîn_ , but you must believe me when I tell you the honor is mine.  It is a joy to see you so much happier, and baby Darryn thrive so.  He is a joy.”

Rhian smiled, before she walked over to Hilda, to offer her congratulations.

Daeron noticed Indis looking at him.  “What?” he asked her.

The Elleth put her hand on his arm and squeezed.  “You are a hero, _thêliôn_ , and not just because of that.”

“Oh?” he did his best to smile and make light of things.  “Why am I so exalted in your eyes, today?”

Indis leaned in and whispered.  “Because Rhian’s welfare means more to you than your own feelings.  Because you are not selfish.”

His eyes widened.  “I –“

_“De melig, Daeron?”_

He hesitated, and his smile became forced, as he looked across the room at Rhian, who was seated on the couch, chatting with Sigrid and Hilda, who was cuddling the baby.  _“Thand, Tîrana; n’air”_ he finally admitted. 

 _“Ni dem angin.”_ She said with serious eyes, full of sympathy.  “Have you spoken to Lord Thranduil?”

“Yes,” he nodded.  “He agrees that her recovery should come first.  I admit, though, it becomes increasingly difficult, as I see her emerge and grow into herself…”

“…like a butterfly who has just come out of her cocoon.” Indis said, softly.  “She is lovely, but needs to learn to fly on her own.”

Daeron swallowed, and whispered, _“Ma...”_   He didn’t want to worry his aunt, so he put on a brave face, but he had to admit the pretense was becoming nearly impossible, despite his best efforts.

 _“A, Daeron,”_ she kissed his cheek.  “This is a day to celebrate; we have not lost our King, nor have we lost his consort.  Let us join in their joy.”

Daeron shook himself, as if waking from a dream.  “You are right.”

A few minutes later, Galion returned with a small cart of food and drink, accompanied by Idril, Daeron’s mother. 

 _“Nana!”_   The Elf went to kiss her cheek.  “Lady Tilda,” the little girl came over to Daeron and held her arms up, so he scooped her up, “you remember my mother, Idril, do you not?”

The little girl nodded her head.  “She looks just like your aunt Indis!”

“Hello, My Lady.”  Idril came over.  “Is my son looking after you properly?”

“Daeron is my friend,” she smiled, “so is Meriel.”

“They are good friends to have.” Idril told her, seriously, then asked Daeron, “Where is Meriel, today?”

“Lady Tilda is becoming more and more independent, so Meriel only comes in the afternoons now, to help her with her exercises.” He smiled and booped Tilda’s nose.  “Today, however, she is surely spending time with Dior.  Did I tell you he proposed to her?”

“No!” Idril clapped her hands together. “That is wonderful news!  I am sure they will be seeing me soon to arrange for their marriage feast.”  She sighed.  “I have so enjoyed the children this winter.  It will be sad to see so many of them leave next month.”

“But some kids are staying here with you,” Tilda reminded her.  “You won’t be too lonely, will you?”

“Perhaps not,” the elleth smiled at her.  “Are you going to stay?” she teased.

“No!  I need to go be with my Da.”

“Well, I shall miss you, My Lady.  I will also miss my son, who will be going with you.”

“Can’t you come, too?  It will be very nice; we have new houses and everything!  And the kitchen is in the Great Hall.  You could cook there.”

“I wish I could, but my job is here, and so is my husband.  Who would cook for the Elves and children in the Palace?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Tilda wilted.  “Your food is very good.”

Idril smiled.  “That is high praise indeed, Lady Tilda.”

“But will you come visit?” Tilda was earnest.  “Daeron will miss you, so you have to come see him, and you can visit me then.”

“Thank you for your invitation, My Lady; I would be honored.”  Idril smiled.

There was another knock at the door, and Meriel and Dior entered, to offer their congratulations to the Royal Family.

Tilda excused herself from Idril and ran over to her caretaker.  “Meriel!” 

“Hello, My Lady!  I am very happy to hear about your fathers, are you not?”  At Tilda’s enthusiastic nod, Meriel smiled down at the little girl.  “Have you met Dior, yet?”

“Hello, Dior.  Are you going to marry Meriel?”

The tall, handsome Elf smiled nodded to Tilda.  “Yes, I am.  With your permission, of course,” he gave her an amused smile.  Meriel speaks of you often and things very highly of the Princess of Dale.

“I like her a lot; she’s really nice, and she helps me at school.”

“When are you going to get married?”  She asked the black-haired Elves.

“As soon as our Kings are well enough,” Meriel told her.  “I was wondering, Lady Tilda, if you would be a part of our bonding ceremony.”

“Really?  Me?”  Tilda squealed loud enough that the others in the room stopped their conversation and looked over at them.  “Yes!”

“Looks like we’ve got another reason to celebrate,” Hilda said, before she toasted the couple.

It was a good day for the North.

*******************

**City of Dale, 23 rd April 2942 T.A.**

His mouth was so dry he couldn’t swallow.

Bard heard faint voices, and rustling about his bed, and someone was holding his hand.  As he slowly came to awareness, he noticed the hand was very smooth, with long, long fingers.  He felt the cool smoothness of a ring.  Eyes still closed, he tried to remember why he was so tired, why he was lying down.  He couldn’t quite piece it together, until an ache in his left leg made itself known to Bard.

“Bard?  Can you hear me?”  A silky, baritone voice called out to him softly. “It is Thranduil, Bard.  Please, _Meleth nîn_ , can you open your eyes?  It is time to come back to us.”

“His breathing has changed,” a female voice could be heard. “Look at his chest!”

“Yes, I see that.” Another male voice.  “Keep talking to him, Thranduil.”

Thranduil…  Thranduil was here? 

Bard tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t quite manage it yet.

“His eyes fluttered a bit.”  The female, again.  Was that Tauriel?

“Bard?” He recognized Thranduil’s deep, smooth voice.  Something was grabbing at his right hand.  “Can you squeeze my fingers, _Meleth nîn_?  Please try.”

It took a tremendous amount of effort, but he managed to make his fingers move a little. 

“He did it!  You did it, Bard!” He felt a cool hand stroke his brow.  “I am here, _Meleth._   I am here, and I love you so much.”

His eyes fluttered again, as he tried to blink awake. Why was he so tired?

“It will not be long, now, My Lord.”

“Bard, I am so glad you are still with us.”  Tauriel again. 

He felt so, so heavy…

Lips kissed Bard’s hand, then his brow.  “You need to wake up, so I can see your beautiful, warm eyes.  Open your eyes for me. I am here, and I love you so much.” His hand was kissed again.

He could move his eyelids now, and he flinched at the slivers of light that came through, as he tried to open his eyes. 

“Excellent, Lord Bard.  You are doing very well.” The Chief Healer told him, gently.  “Just keeping trying… That is it...”

Eventually, Bard was able to open his eyes, and, praise the Valar, the first thing he saw was Thranduil’s beautiful face, as he hovered over him.

 “You’re here,” he croaked. 

“Hello, _Meleth nîn_ ,” the Elf whispered to him with a relieved smile. “I am so happy to see you.”

Bard grimaced; his mouth felt like it was full of feathers, and he tried in vain to swallow. 

Thranduil reached for something on the table, then a reed straw was held to his lips.  “Suck on this,” he said.

He did so, and his mouth was filled with water, and it felt _wonderful._   After a few mouthfuls, he lay his head back, and looked at his husband.  “Hello, love...” he said, in a gravelly voice.

Thranduil grinned widely at him, and kissed his lips.  “I love you.”

“You look tired.”  Bard told him, and he did.  He’d never seen Thranduil look so frail, with eyes that looked sunken, with dark circles, and skin that looked almost grey.

“I will be fine, Bard; do not worry about me.  Just rest, and get well, and I will also recover.”

Bard was confused.  “What happened?”

“You had an accident, Bard.  A block from the Eastern wall, fell on you.  Do you remember?”

He thought for several moments.  There was a vague memory of Thangon barking, then knocking him down…

Then he was here, waking up in this room…

Bard shook his head.  “Where’s Thangon?” he asked, as he looked around. 

Alun took him outside for a walk, while we woke you.”  Tauriel told him.  “We didn’t want him to startle you, but I am afraid he will insist upon seeing you, when he returns.  He has barely left this room for eight days.”

 _“Eight days?”_ Bard croaked. 

“I am afraid so, _Meleth nîn_ ,” Thranduil told him.  “You were in bad shape, and there is a splint on your leg.  There were so many pieces of broken bone…”

“And you came…” Bard said, looking at him.

The Elvenking looked into his face and tried to make light of things.  “Of course, I did, _Meleth nî_ _n_.  I would be nowhere else, when my husband tries to catch pieces of stone that are much too large.”  It didn’t work.  Thranduil’s eyes filled and brimmed over, and his voice trembled as he whispered, “I almost lost you, _Meleth n_ _î_ _n_.  I almost did not get to you in time.”  He stroked Bards hair from his face.  “I almost lost you.” He said again, so faintly, Bard could barely hear him.

“You are fortunate your husband sensed your injury, My Lord,” Ermon told Bard.  “If he had waited until we sent for him, you would not be here.”

Thranduil nodded and put Bard’s hand on his chest.  “I was at the Palace and, I felt… _something_ , so I came right away.”

“So, you…”  Bard looked at his husband closely.  “You _knew.”_

“Yes.” Thranduil sat down again, and sighed.  “I _had_ to save you, Bard.  For Dale, for the children, but mostly,” his voice became hoarse, “I saved you for myself, for I cannot be without you, _Meleth nîn_.” The Elf lowered his head, kissed Bard’s hand, and whispered, again. “I cannot be without you.”

 “Hey, hey…” Bard reached his hand out, and stroked his long silky hair.  “Don’t cry...  I’m here.”

Thranduil brought his face closer, and smiled through his tears.  “Yes, you are.”

He reached up and touched that beautiful face, with its red-rimmed eyes.  “I’m so glad to see your face.” 

Thranduil shushed him, gently.  “You must lie still, _Meleth nî_ _n_.  You are still very weak, and your leg needs to heal. You mustn’t move it at all.  We have set the bones, but I did not have the strength to fully knit all the pieces.  I am sorry.  You have also lost a great deal of blood, and your body needs time to come back from that.”

“But the children –“

“Are back in the Woodland Realm, safe and warm.” Thranduil assured them.  “I could not bring them when I rushed here, and it is much too cold for them travel.  They have received word of your condition and your recovery.” 

Bard relaxed back into the mattress a bit.  “I don’t want them to see me like this.  They’ve been through enough.”

“They're just fine,” Percy assured him.  “Dáin’s been sending messages back and forth constantly, and there’s a stack of letters and drawings for you to look at when you’ve gotten some more rest.”

Bard turned his head, and saw the box on the side table, “I’ll bet they were worried out of their minds.”  He felt guilt wash over him.  “I’m sorry…”

“Stop it, you.”  Percy shook his head.  “Hilda wrote they didn’t even know anything until we were sure you were going to pull through.  She and Galion have been taking good care of them, and Daeron’s been doing his part, too.  In fact,” Percy smiled.  “Tilda’s instructions were to read the letters aloud, while you were sleeping, so you’d dream about them.”

Bard laid his head down on the pillow and smiled.  “And did you?”

“You bet.  We did for Thranduil, too, while he was out cold.  Those kids weren’t about to let you forget about them.” 

Bard looked over at his stepdaughter.  “How are you, love?” He reached to take her hand.  “This must have been horrible for you.”

The red-haired Elf smiled and squeezed his fingers.  “Please do not worry about that; you and _Ada_ need to just get better.”

Tauriel leaned down and kissed Bard’s cheek.  “I will go get your lunch, _Ada.”_   She walked around the narrow bed, to kiss him. “Ermon says you can have real food today.”  Tauriel smiled and walked out.

“Praise the Stars, Thranduil muttered. “There is only so much excitement to be found with broth, bread and willow bark tea.” 

“I thought you might say that,” said Ermon. “But as for _you,_ Lord Bard, it will be broth, water and willow bark tea, until further notice.  Your system is still recovering from the shock, so we need to ease your body back to life.”

Bard reached down and felt the hard cast, around his waist.  “I can’t sit up.”

“No, you cannot and you will not for several weeks.  You must keep perfectly still, so that puzzle we call your thigh will heal properly.  Otherwise you will have a lifetime of problems, despite Elven medicine.  The good news is, the circulation in your lower leg is fine.” Ermon was grave.  “If you had not lost so much blood, My Lord, I was going to cut off your leg to save you, but…”

 “Cut it off?”  Bard’s heart started to pound.  “Oh, gods…  But…  Aren’t I supposed to heal faster now?”  Bard asked.  “I… changed when I married Thranduil, so…”

“I have never encountered a patient such as you, so I am going to be conservative in my predictions.  Until I know what your body is capable of, I cannot tell you how long this will take, My Lord.  Of course, we hope to be pleasantly surprised, but it is best to be prepared.”  The Healer went to the door, “I will see about something for you.”

“You’re the boss.” Bard smiled.  “Besides, I’m so tired, I couldn’t move around if I tried.”

“You think it is easy now, but wait until you are feeling better.”  Ermon warned, “I guarantee you will despise it, and me.”  Ermon grinned, then he walked out, leaving Bard and alone with his Elf.

He looked around. “Why are there two beds in here?  What happened to our bed?”

“When they first brought you in, you bled all over the mattress, and ruined it.”

“Really?  But why two of them?”

“You needed to be kept still, so your bones would stay put. They were shattered, Bard.  We worked to reassemble them, but there was only so much even I could do.”

“Was it that bad?”

“You lost a great deal of blood, and that alone was enough to kill you; a piece of bone nicked your artery, and it took nearly everything I had to repair it, and keep your heart going.”  Thranduil sighed.  “You had mere minutes left, Bard; if I had waited for a message from Dale, you would be dead.”

“But you said you _‘knew,_ ’ somehow.”

“I felt a pressure here,” he pointed to his chest, “then my leg buckled.”

“Then you came.”

“Then I came.  As fast as I could.” Thranduil stroked his cheek.  “As if I would be anywhere else, when my Bowman needed me.”

“Come here, love.”

Thranduil stood up to take him in his arms, and they held each other for several minutes.  Stars, it felt so _good_ to be with him, again!  The ache he felt from his Elf’s absence was slipping away, to be replaced with a sense of completeness.  His heart felt whole, again.

“I hate feeling so lost, when you’re not around,” he whispered in to his husband’s neck.  “When will that stop, so I can bear it?”

“Hopefully never, because that is how I feel, when you are far away.”  Thranduil whispered, and kissed his temple.

The Elvenking lifted his head, and looked into his eyes, from the blue-grey depths, so like the water he grew up on.  He watches, as Thranduil’s gaze traveled all over Bard’s face, then at his lips.  He leaned in to kiss him, slow and easy at first, but then their mouths opened and soon they were caught up in a deep, life-affirming caress of tongues.  Despite his weakness, Bard moaned softly and lost himself in it.

Until Bard’s body began to stir, but not from desire.

He pulled his head back.  “I’m sorry, love.” He whispered.  “I need to…”

“What _Meleth nîn_?”  Thranduil rubbed their noses together. “What do you need?”

“As much as I love kissing you, I’ve got to pee.”

Thranduil stood up.  “Ah.  They have been feeding you liquids while you were under; this is a good sign, actually.”

“It would be, if I could get up and go to the necessary.  What am I supposed to do?”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news…” and Thranduil reached under the bed and held up the pitcher.  “Do you need help?” he offered.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I wish I could say I was, but this is going to be your best friend, along with a privy pan, for as long as it takes.”

“You’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me!” Bard said again, only this time he _really_ meant it.  “Oh, shit…”

“Precisely.” Thranduil couldn’t resist a smirk.

“Well, I can’t take a piss with you… holding it…  It would be too…”

“Strange? How so? I am quite familiar with your cock, _Meleth,”_

“But… not _that way!”_ Bard was agitated.  “Just… get Ermon or his helper in here, please.”

Thranduil regarded him for a moment.  “I see what you mean.  I will be right back.”

“And hurry!”

Thank the stars the Healer came quickly, and locked the door behind him, so Bard could have some privacy.  Once things were taken care of, Thranduil came back in, followed by Percy and Thangon, who was surprisingly gentle when he walked over to him and put his head on the mattress beside him.

“Did you miss me, boy?” Bard scratched behind his ears, enjoying the dog’s moan. 

“Didn’t I tell you that dog would save your life one day?” Percy said.  “Next time you’ll listen when he tells you to move.”  He moved in beside Thangon and reached down to give Bard a hug.  “You scared us half to death, my boy.” He whispered, and held him for a minute.  “Glad you’re still with us.”

“I am, too, Pers.”  Bard closed his eyes and hugged him back.  “I’m sorry to worry you.”

Percy stood up straight and looked at the two Kings, with an agitated look.  “I would appreciate it, if the people in this family would stop trying to die on us; Hilda and I are getting way too old for this shit.”

“Hear, hear!”  Dáin’s booming voice could be heard from the doorway. The Dwarf King walked in and stood at the foot of the bed.  “Do ye have _any_ idea wha’ you put us through?” He had his hands on his hips.  “Between the two o’ you an’ wee Tilda…  Hello, laddie!”

”What are you doing here?” Bard asked.

”Only frettin’ o’er ye both till I couldn’t see straight!”   He walked over to stand beside Percy.  “Good te see ye, Lad.  An’ don’ worry.  I’ve been lookin’ after Dale, with yon Elf’s help.  Thin’s are still on schedule, and we’ve double the guards all o’er the place.  All ye need to do is rest an’ get strong, and remember: when yer hound give ye an order, by Durin, ye listen!” Dáin did his best to look severe, but he wouldn’t have even scared Tilda.

Bard blinked at the Dwarven King.  “Thank you for taking care of things.  When did you come?”

“Soon as I could, an’ I been here sin’ the accident. I’ve been sleepin’ in Percy’s room, while he bunked wi’ Alun.  Someone had te keep things running, ye ken.”  The Dwarf became serious.  “We had te get ready to look after yer son, in case thin’s took a turn for the worse.”

Bard blinked.  “It was really that bad?” he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact he’d been out for over a week.

“It was.  Yer Elf nearly died, tryin’ te save ye.  He only woke up three days ago.”

Bard looked sharply at Thranduil.  “You did?”

Thranduil looked down and didn’t say anything.

“He wanted to make sure you lived, Bard.  Even if it meant…”  Percy couldn’t finish the sentence.  “You both were hanging between life and death for a while there.”

“Oh…”  Bard looked at Thranduil.  “No wonder you look so exhausted!”

“I think we’re going to put him back in bed, now.  He’s looking a bit peaked.”

Thranduil gave Percy a look that wanted to argue, but Dáin stepped over and said, “He’s right, lad.  You’re gettin’ more tired the minute.  Tell you what,” he said.  “Come wi’ me.” He helped Thranduil up and urged him to sit by the fireplace.  Then the Dwarf went out and waved down a couple of the guards to come in.

Under Dáin’s supervision, the stand in between the beds was removed, and the beds were pushed together.  “Ermon tells me ye’ll both do better wi’ like this, and asked me to arrange it, before the food came.”

Percy helped Thranduil get back into bed, just in time for the trays to arrive with their lunch.  Then he spoon-fed Bard the broth and made sure he finished his tea, as Thranduil sat against his pillows and made quick work of his meal. 

Once the empty dishes were taken away, the Chief Healer ordered everyone out, so they could rest.  Thranduil smiled, and turned on his left side, to snuggled against his Bowman.

“This is nice,” Bard said, sleepily.

“You had said you wanted us to take some time for each other, _Meleth nîn_ , do you remember? Just to lie in bed naked…” Thranduil grinned with his eyes closed, and lay his head on Bard’s shoulder.

“Yep.  Just how I pictured it, love: you, and me and my body cast.” Bard rolled his eyes, when Thranduil laughed.  “But, all things considered, I’ll take it.”

“Hmm…”

“Thranduil?” Bard said, sleepily.  “Did you mean to give your life to save mine?”

 Thranduil ran his hands over Bard’s chest, in slow circles.  “You _had_ to live, if only for your children.  They needed their Da, more than they need me.”

 _“Our_ children, love,” he corrected.  “They need us _both.”_   Bard sighed. “I remember… Gandalf was here, wasn’t he?”

“I do not know, _Meleth nîn_.”  Thranduil yawned.  “Percy and Dáin never said.  Perhaps it was a dream.”

“Could be.”

“I had a dream as well, although Gandalf wasn’t there.”

“Oh?  Dream of anyone special?”

“When we are more rested, I want to tell you about it.”  Thranduil closed his eyes and pulled the blankets up. “I am very tired, and so are you.”

“I love you,” Bard said, faintly.

“And I you.  Always.” Thranduil said, as he drifted off.

 

A few hours later, Thranduil woke up.  He must have rolled over in his sleep, as his back was against Bard, and he sighed and enjoyed the warmth of his husband.  He opened his eyes, he realized night had fallen, as he observed the reflection of the lamp burning in the window.  Behind him, he felt Bard shift in his sleep, which was fine, but his snoring was obnoxious! 

He groaned, turned back to face Bard, only to be met with the sight of Thangon, who had wedged himself between them, on his back, with this tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.  Despite the awful racket the dog was making, Thranduil couldn’t help but laugh; the sight of all that loose skin hanging upside down from the dog’s muzzle was one of the funniest things he had ever seen!

Thranduil lifted his head to look over the dog at Bard.  Regardless of his fatigue, his husband was obviously used to the dog’s noise, as he was still fast asleep.  One hand was tucked under his head, and the other was on top of the blankets over his stomach, and he faced away from him toward the fireplace. 

Thranduil sat up, and pushed the dog over to his belly to wake him up.  “I am sorry, but when I am here, this is _my_ place, and you must stay on the hearth.”

Thangon pouted and whined at him, but the Elvenking was firm.  “We might as well establish this now, _mellon_.  _I_ sleep next to my husband; not you.  _Undu, Thangon!”_

Thangon huffed and made a big show of dragging himself off the bed and flopped onto the hearth rug with a dramatic groan.  He put his head between his paws and sulked, giving the Elvenking a filthy look and a low grunt.  Thranduil rolled his eyes, put his arm around his husband, and went back to sleep.

But Thangon was not a dog to easily admit defeat.  He waited and listened, and as soon as he was sure the Elvenking was asleep, he quietly slithered over to Thranduil’s side of the bed, jumped up and settled himself against the Elvenking’s back.  After settling in to his favorite position, the dog heaved a huge sigh, and soon began to snore, again.

An hour later, Percy came into Tauriel’s room, where she was reading and snuggling with Farien.  “You’ve got to see this!” The Steward whispered, motioning for her to come with him, and holding his fingers against his lips.  They tiptoed to Bard’s room and Percy slowly opened the door, to show Tauriel what he’d been smiling at.

Tauriel had to put both hands over her mouth to stifle her giggles.  There was Bard was in his usual position, of course: flat on his back, but Thranduil was not cuddled up against his husband, but had his arms around the Thangon, who was still snoring away.

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS (In alphabetical order):

 _A, Daeron_ – Oh, Daeron

 _De athae, Eru Ilúvatar, a Elbereth Gilthoniel_ – Thank you, Eru Ilúvatar, and Queen of the Stars

 _De melig, Daeron?_ – Do you love her, Daeron?

 _Gwiôn_ – Honorary nephew; Gwador = sworn brother, Iôn = descendant of

 _Ma…_ \- Yes…

 _Mê g'ovannen, Daeron_ – Well met (hello), Daeron

 _Na vedui! De fael a vilui, Belain_ – At last!  You and kind and generous, Valar

 _Ni dem angin_ – I am sorry for you

 _Suil, Tîrana Indis!_ – Hello, Aunt Indis!

 _Thand; n’uir_ – It is true; for eternity

 _Thêliôn_ – nephew (lit.  ‘sister-son)

 _Undu, Thangon!_ – Down, Thangon!

 

 


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life as invalids takes its toll, not only for them, but for everyone around our Kings. Thankfully, these two grumpy patients get their comeuppance.  
> 
> And nobody feels sorry for them.

 

Bard and Thranduil’s confinement wasn’t _all_ bad.  While it was true that the circumstances for their time together was not ideal, they were a newly-wed couple, after all, and between naps, talked and continued to get to know each other.  The few days taken for their wedding trip, and those brief hours alone in the suite on the Royal Wing, were wonderful, but now they had copious amounts of time to tell stories of their youth, and talk about their parents.  They also spent a great deal of time helping Bard learn Sindarin.

One day, Bard took a deep breath, and asked Thranduil, “Do you remember anything when you were… asleep?”

The Elf put down the letter he was reading from Sigrid and looked at him in amazement.  “Yes,” he said warily. “I did…experience something.  Did you, as well?”

At Bard’s nod, Thranduil urged him to talk about it, and was mesmerized at Bard’s description of his visit with Gandalf, and described what he saw, when the Wizard opened the “Garden” door.

“You _saw_ the Halls of Mandos?” The Elvenking was incredulous.

“I did.  You’d think it would be frightening, but really, it wasn’t.  It looked to me like a place of…rest; I don’t know how to describe it.  Then Gandalf showed me the door to your study, but it wasn’t...  I had to choose where I wanted to be.”

“What helped you decide?”  Thranduil asked him, softly.

“It was peaceful there, to be sure, and I’d be content, but I’d never truly be happy, because there would be no love, like I have with you and the children.  I was afraid of the bad times to come, and I won’t lie about that, but in the end, that wasn’t a good enough reason to miss out on what I’ve got here, now.”  Bard reached for his hand, and admitted,  “I was tempted, but I don’t want you to think it was because I don’t love you.”

“I understand.” Thranduil smiled, and kissed him.  “I am sorry you did not see your Mattie, Bard.  I wish you had a chance to say goodbye.”

“But I did that, long ago, remember?”  Bard caressed Thranduil’s cheek. “Did Gandalf appear to you, too?”

Thranduil pulled away and sat up straight, sitting cross-legged against the pillows.  “No, it was not Gandalf,” he said in a small voice, as he looked off into space.

Bard studied his face for several moments.  “It was Mírelen, wasn’t it?”

Thranduil nodded, and sighed.

“But that’s wonderful, love!” Bard said, and he meant it, but he took note of his husband’s discomfort.  “You don’t have to tell me about it, if you don’t want to.”

The Elf looked at him quickly.  “Oh, no, Bard; it is not that…  I am happy to speak about it; it was just so… remarkable…”

“Was it hard to see her again?”

“Not at all.”  Thranduil smiled at him.  “I was truly happy to see her, Bard, and I, too seriously considered going with her.”

“Can you tell me why?”  Bard asked, gently.

"It was not so much because I wanted to be with her, although it would have been nice.  Bard, I am ancient, and most of my years on Middle Earth have been spent in mourning – why would I not want to go where I could be free of that weight?”

“You were 'tired,' too.”  Bard kissed his hand.  “It’s not a terrible thing to want to avoid more grief.”

Thranduil smiled, “I realized, _Meleth nîn,_ no matter what happens, no matter how painful it could be, my place is with _you._   Mírelen understood, and sent me off with a full heart.” He shook his head and laughed.  “She knew what I was going to do, before I did.”

“Was it hard to leave her?  I mean, you’ve missed her for such a long time…”

“Yes and no,” the Elf answered, and swallowed hard.  “The last I’d seen of Mírelen was in my arms, covered in blood, with terror on her face.  I had been filled with unspeakable sorrow, my ears filled of my small son's screams, and the sounds of my own weeping…”

He heaved a great sigh.  “Those images haunted me, but now, when I think of her, I will remember her in a beautiful, sunny meadow, with blue flowers in her hair…  It was a wonderful gift.”

“I’m happy for you, love.  I really am.”  Bard kissed his hand.  “And she has a good life, now?  She’s really all right?”

“She is.”  He grinned down at his Bowman.  “Mírelen told me she likes you, and she is looking forward to meeting you, when we sail to Valinor.”

“I’m looking forward to that.”

Thranduil laid back down, and laid his head on Bard’s shoulder, “She told me many more things, Bard.  Things I had no idea about, and things I must do.”

“Really?”  Bard kissed his hair.  “Do you want to talk about it?”  At Thranduil’s nod, he said. “You can tell me as much or as little as you want, love.”

So the Bowman listened, with increasing fascination, as his Elf told him all the details of his time in the forest with Mírelen, and all that was said.

Bard caressed his jaw.  “How do you feel?”

“I feel a peace I have not known for nearly a thousand years.  It almost makes what you and I went through worth it.”

Bard hummed his agreement.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Certainly, _Meleth_.”

“Do you think Mírelen has found someone new?”

“We will find out, when the time comes.  If she has, I wish her the same joy I have with you.”

Bard raised his arm and put it around Thranduil’s shoulders, and held him.  “I hate this cast, and I hate that we’re both recuperating, but I’m glad we’re doing it together.”

“Mmm hmmm…”  Thranduil’s eyes were already closed, and soon, they were asleep.

 

**City of Dale; 28 th of April, 2942 T.A.**

Over the next weeks, the Kings slept a great deal of the time, and things went on as normal as possible around them, both in the Dale and the Woodland Realm.  Dáin went back to the Mountain, but he kept the troops in place and made sure the Woodland Realm did the same. 

There was another positive development: Thangon finally stopped trying to wrestle with Thranduil over his spot on the bed, for which the Elvenking was grateful.  He liked the dog, really, but this contest of wills was becoming tiresome.

Every time the Elvenking came back from the privy, he’d find the dog laying in his place, and Thangon had become increasingly stubborn about giving it up.  At first, his protests were feeble, and groaned when Thranduil ordered him off.  Then the Elvenking had to push him off over louder protests.  Thangon made a last-ditch effort to win the contest by becoming completely limp, and pretending he was being hurt, every time Thranduil pulled on his legs.  In the end, it took two guards to lift him off, and pour him onto the hearth.

Bard was no help, at all.  He found the whole situation hilarious, especially when Thangon decided that howling would be a good way to voice his objections, once he was back on the floor.

“What?”  he asked Thranduil, after a particularly difficult wrestling match. Bard was holding his stomach, still laughing.

“You could order him to get off, you know.”  Thranduil gave him an imperious look. 

“I’m stuck here, flat on my back, love; I need all the entertainment I can get.” Bard grinned.  “Think of it this way: now you’ve got someone to _‘bark’_ orders at.” Then he stuck out his tongue at his Elf.

Thranduil rolled his eyes.  “That is the worst joke I have ever heard!”

“You have to be nice to me; I’m an invalid,” the King of Dale smirked, then reached over to scratch the dog behind his ears.  “What’s the matter, boy?  Did the nasty, horrible Elvenking throw you on the floor?  He’s so mean, isn’t he?”

Thangon wagged his tail, then gave Thranduil a simpering ‘I-won-this-round’ look.

“Oh, shut up.”  The Elvenking griped, to both man and dog, before going back to his book.

Finally, Tauriel took pity on all of them, and sewed some extra pillows together, to make a nice soft bed for Thangon on the hearth.  After a few more half-hearted attempts at ousting the Elvenking, the big dog accepted his fate, but made himself appeared wretched and pitiable whenever he thought they were looking. 

Thranduil could swear the dog was snoring louder on purpose.

As amusing as that was, and despite visitors offering company and cheer, Thranduil was growing increasingly frustrated.  Ermon would not allow Thranduil to get out of bed, except to use the privy or when Bard needed privacy; otherwise he was on bed-rest, and the Healer would not budge.

“How long will this recovery take?” Thranduil wanted to know, as he came back from the necessary on the eighth day after he woke up.  It was after lunch, and Ermon had to help him get back into the room and sat him down on the side of the bed. 

Bard was awake, and petting Thangon’s head as it sat on his chest.  “That’s what I’d love to know.”

“It will take as long as it will take, My Lord, and until then, you will be going _nowhere.”_

The Elvenking tried a domineering tactic, “You cannot tell me –“

“Thranduil,” Ermon interrupted, his jaw set. “I have never seen _any_ Elf give as much as you, and live; even a powerful Sindar such as yourself!”

“But surely –“

The Healer waved his hands in frustration.  “Did I tell you that by the time you collapsed, you were seconds away from death?  If you don’t believe me, ask Commander Feren!”  Ermon gave Thranduil a severe look.  “My Lord; I am not asking you: I am _ordering_ you back to bed. _You will_ follow my instructions, or I will have King Dáin assign a Dwarven guard to stay inside this room, to keep you in bed; do I make myself clear?”

The Elvenking was thunderstruck.  “You would not dare!”

“Would you like to test that theory?” Ermon put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrow.  “Please; challenge me on this, and we shall see, won’t we?”

He gaped at the Chief Healer for several moments, then shut his mouth, but Ermon wasn’t finished with his lecture, and continued to deliver it in a withering tone.

“Thranduil, you had _nothing_ left!  We had hands on you for days, doing your breathing for you, telling your heart when to beat, to keep you from fading, and we didn’t even know if it would work!  _Everyone_ in the Great Hall, and in the Palace back home were sending up prayers, day and night!  It took _five long days_ , before we even knew you would live!  Sire, you need to take a few moments, and understand what that was like for everyone who worried about you!

“However, if you want to be prideful and _selfish,_ by all means: get up and start walking around!  Show your disregard for poor Galion and Hilda, who had to keep all this bad news _to themselves_ and maintain a cheerful front for Lord Bard’s children, so Lady Tilda would not relapse!  Show how little you care for Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda, when you perish, all because of your stubbornness!  Spit on all those who prayed for you, who worried for you, were terrified for you and for the entire Northern Kingdoms!”

With that, the Healer stormed out of the room.  Thangon huffed his agreement, and after a disgusted look at the Elvenking, walked out, too.

“Wow.” Bard’s eyes were wide. “He really yelled at you!  I’ve _never_ seen anybody yell at you, like that,” he marveled.  “Well, except me, of course.”

Thranduil sat on the bed and heaved a sigh of frustration.  “Bard, I do not mean to cause such a problem, truly, but I find this idleness nearly impossible to bear…  It is different for you…”

“Oh?  And _I’m_ used to laying around like a slug; is that what you’re saying?”

 “But you are sleeping much more than I am now, and I must… do something! The women and children should be returning in a few weeks from the Palace, and I have to –“

“I heard that!” Ermon’s voice called, from down the corridor.  “No; you _do NOT_   _'_ _have to.’”_

At that, Bard laughed outright.

“I am glad you think it is amusing!” Thranduil gave his husband a filthy look. “Wait until you are feeling stronger, and see how you like it!” The Elvenking rolled his eyes. “You are still exhausted, so, besides having to deal with the inconvenience of the pitcher and privy pan…”

“’Inconvenience?'   _'_ _Inconvenience?_  '  It’s _fucking humiliating_ , is what it is!  You honestly think I’m comfortable?”  Bard managed to raise himself up on his elbows.  “Do you have any idea how much this cast itches?  Or how my back feels, from laying in one place? Or what it’s like to have someone help you pee, and wipe your arse?" he growled through gritted teeth, "Go ahead; tell me again how terrible you have it, I _fucking dare you!”_

Thranduil sighed.  “You are right; I am sorry, _Meleth nîn_.” He turned to look Bard with a small smile. 

“Come here, love.” Bard patted the space next to him. “Make your crippled, invalid husband feel better.”

The Elvenking pulled back the covers and crawled in.  “It is not that I think the Kingdom will not run without me; it is –“

“- it bothers you that it _can.”_   Bard finished.  “You’re afraid you’re no longer needed.  I know that's what I'm feeling.  The physical discomfort's bad enough, but being so useless..."

Thranduil sighed.  “Yes,” he admitted, as he punched his pillow and flopped down.  “Ermon was right; I am prideful, and I can be selfish…”

“Well, that's true,” Bard agreed.

Thranduil looked at him sharply, then realized he was teasing, he rolled his eyes again.  “I am also _**bored**_ , Bard!”

“If I was feeling a little better, I’d help you relieve some tension,” Bard said, before he stifled a yawn, “but I’m having a hard time staying awake.”

“That is too bad; I think we both could use the release.” The Elf sighed. “It is difficult to lie next to you and be chaste.” He groaned.  “It is difficult to just lie here, period!”

 “I know; I feel the same way, but whining won’t help.” Bard jabbed him with his elbow. “You’re such a big baby when you’re sick.” 

“That is the problem, Bard: I have _never been_ ‘sick,’ as you call it.  Never, in nearly 4,000 years!  I do not know how humans can tolerate this!  How do you do this?”

“Only because I’m too tired to do any whining of my own, today.”  Bard yawned.  “Try to get some more rest, love.  The more you do as your told, the faster you’ll be up and around.”  Bard pulled Thranduil's face closer to give him a kiss, tried to make himself as comfortable as possible, and went back to sleep.

Thranduil just scowled and picked up the book Tauriel had brought him, and began to read, but only a few minutes after Bard closed his eyes, the Elf fell asleep himself, and his book fell to the floor. 

**City of Dale, 3 rd of May, 2942, T.A.** 

The Chief Healer had eventually allowed Thranduil to do a bit of paperwork off of a tray in his lap, and allowed both Kings to hold short meetings with Percy, Ben and Alun, so they could be kept up to speed with the goings on Dale.

In the mornings, he would sit cross-legged with a tray in front of him, reading and signing papers, or work on the book for Legolas, while Bard napped.  In light of his recent visit with Mirelen, he was especially anxious to finish it, but he chose not to describe that encounter to his son, until they were face-to-face.  He drew a sketch of his wife in the clearing, though, with flowers in her hair, and cradling the rabbit in her arms.  He also made a copy of it to keep for himself.

"It's beautiful, love," Bard said, when Thranduil showed it to his husband. "What an incredible thing!"

"This is how I will think of her, _Meleth_   _n_ _în._ This memory is precious to me, because it was in this very moment she told me you would live, that I had saved you."

Bard swallowed, as his eyes filled. "Oh, love..."  He held his arms out.  "Come here."

Thranduil set the drawing on the side table and buried his face in Bard's neck and breathed in his scent, as felt his Bowman's arms.  "I love you, Bard."

 _"Gi Melin, Thranduil. Urieb..."_ Bard whispered.  "It's all such a miracle..."

"It is."

For the rest of that day, they reflected on all the unlikely events that brought them together, and to where they were now.

  

There were many, many well-wishes from their subjects.  The teachers at the Palace had sent a large packet of drawings from the children, and stacks of letters and notes from many of the adults of both races.  Tauriel hung up sheets along the walls and pinned the children’s drawings on them, to bring her fathers a bit of cheer, which was greatly appreciated, but, while these colorful drawings were delightful and added whimsy to their days, it could only help so much. 

The Kings were simply stir-crazy, and it was increasingly making them, and everyone around them, miserable.

One morning Thranduil growled, threw back his blankets and got out of bed, pronouncing loudly that he going to do as he pleased.

Ermon raised his eyebrows at him (he was doing that a lot, lately) and threatened to put him under a _losta-luith._

“You would not dare!”  Thranduil spat.

“Would I not?  Get back in that bed.” Ermon warned.

“I will not!”

“Have it your way, then.  It is your choice.”

Thranduil stared daggers at the Healer, until Ermon waved his hand, chanting several words in Quenya.  The guards, already alerted to the situation, hurried toward Thranduil and grabbed him, as he closed his eyes, and covered him with blankets.

“So, that was easily done; he should be asleep for approximately three hours.”  The Healer put his hands on his hips and scowled at Bard.  “Am I going to have any trouble with _you,_ today?”

“Me?” Bard’s eyes widened and he shrank back.  “Um…no.”

“Good.”  Ermon nodded and walked out.

Bard saw Percy’s delighted look and frowned.  “I don’t see what’s so funny about this!”

“Oh, I do,” the Steward said and leaned over to whisper, “We’ve been taking bets on when Ermon would do that, and Ben and I won the pool!”

Percy’s laughed followed him all the way down the corridor.  Bard sighed, and waited for what would inevitably would come, as he began to count: “One…  two… three…  four…”  When he reached twelve, he heard the roar of laughter from the direction of the Great Hall.

“Bastard,” Bard mumbled, then turned to his left to see Thangon sitting up and tilting his head back and forth at him.

“What?  You think this is funny, do you?”

After a couple of delighted barks, the dog came over to lick his face, then ran out to find Tauriel.

 

A few nights later, the invalid Kings decided they were strong enough to attend to matters that had been neglected for far too long…

"Holy shit!" Bard woke up in the middle of the night with a groan; he was _painfully_ hard, and smooth, long fingers were stroking his cock, and lips were greedily suckling on his nipple.

“Oh…  aaaaaaahh…” Bard hissed, as Thranduil bit him.  “I thought I was dreaming…”

“I want you, Bard; please…”  Thranduil groaned.  “I cannot wait any longer.”

“I can’t either...” Bard whimpered.  “How do we do this?  I can’t move, as much as I want to.”

“I have an idea…”  Thranduil put Thangon out then locked the door.  He reached down and gave Bard a hard, filthy kiss, removed his own night clothes, then carefully eased Bard’s nightshirt off.  Then he turned to face the foot of the bed, and swung his leg over as Bard grabbed his hips and eased them lower, to take the Elf’s cock into his mouth.  He began to suck on him greedily, and Thranduil threw his head back and let out a loud groan.

 _“AE!...  Avo dharo!”_ he cried out.  “Bard... I shall _die_ if you stop! _A ma!  Ma!"_

Bard let go with a loud pop, and hissed.  “Shhh!  If you wake anybody up before I come, I’ll kill you myself!  Now, put that mouth of yours to work, Elf!”

When Thranduil put his mouth on him, and began to suck hard, Bard thought he would pass out, from the pleasure.  Despite that, Bard managed to work the Elf’s cock, as he ran his fingers over the sensitive skin of Thranduil’s balls and the inside of this thighs.  With his other hand, he pumped up and down the shaft, until it was red and throbbing, and he could feel Thranduil's thighs tremble.

The vibrations from their moans only egged each other on, until he felt Thranduil body stiffen, and he pulled off Bard's cock with a growl, then bit down on Bard’s thigh as he came with a muffled scream.  Bard made a point to exaggerate his swallowing motions to heighten his orgasm, and it must have worked, because it seemed Thranduil’s cock couldn’t stop twitching in his mouth, and the muffled noises continued for some time.  Finally, he felt the Elf grow soft, and Thranduil quickly moved around and took Bard back in his mouth and sucked hard.

“Oh, gods!  Oh, fuck!”  Bard arched off the bed.  His right hand sank into icy blonde hair, while he covered his mouth with the left, to stifle his screams, as he came.  And boy, did he.  He knew he shouldn’t be exerting himself, but what could he do, but scrunch his eyes tight and let it all go?

At last, Thranduil flopped down beside him, and it took longer than they both wanted to admit to catch their breath. 

“I do not think we were allowed to do that.” Thranduil managed to say, between gasps of air.

“Ask me if I care,” Bard croaked, as he panted.  “Stars…  I _needed_ that.”

“I have missed you, _Hervenn nîn.”_

“Me, too.  I’ve wanted you for days, but was too pooped to do anything about it.  Could you get us some water, love?”

Thranduil managed to get to the table, and bring back a glass for them to share.  Once they finished it, Thranduil got back into his nightclothes and helped Bard with his shirt.  “I do not want them suspecting we were naughty.”  He smiled.

“Oh, I think they’ll know.”

“How so?”

“We won’t act like Wargs tomorrow.” Bard grinned. 

 

 

**City of Dale, 8 th of May; 2942 T.A. **

Despite the release of tension with nocturnal activities, their stamina was not recovering nearly as fast as their will. 

There was no doubt about it: Bard and Thranduil were grumpy, whiny, impossible, and altogether _horrible_ patients.   Under those conditions, it was inevitable that their long-suffering caretakers would reach their limit, and when they did, their retribution was severe.

And effective.

On that day, Old Ben sat in the chair by Bard’s bed after breakfast, to bring him up to speed with the finishing touches of the construction, and the supplies.  Their daily meetings were brief, as the King of Dale still tired easily, although Bard still refused to admit it.  This morning, he objected a bit too fiercely when Ben got up and begin gathering his drawings and papers.

“No, My Lord.  I am allowed one half-hour and no more.”

“Ben, don’t leave!  I feel fine!”

“Bard, your eyes are drooping; you can hardly keep ‘em open!” The builder shook his head at him.  “In any case, Ermon’d have my head if I stay too long, and these days, he’s just as cantankerous as the two of you.”

“I am NOT cantankerous!” Bard said, bitterly. _“I’m_ in charge of Dale, not him!”

“Not right now, you’re not.”  Ben gave him a patient smile.  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Bard gritted his teeth, and threw his pillow at the closed door.

“I am not picking that up for you.”  Thranduil snapped.

“Fine!”  Bard said through gritted teeth, and put his arm behind his head to support it.  “If I’m cantankerous, I’m not the only one!”

After a few minutes, the door opened again, and Ermon picked up the pillow.  “Do you want to tell me what this is doing here?”

“No!” Bard stared at the ceiling.  “How the bloody fuck would you feel, after weeks of this shit?  My back is _killing me_ from lying flat and not moving, and I can’t even roll over for someone to rub it!  I’m sick of staring at the ceiling day in, day out, having people wait on me like I’m helpless!  How would _you_ _feel_?”

The Chief Healer rolled his eyes and sighed.  “I would not like it any better than you do, Bard.  And I probably would feel just as frustrated, but I cannot help this! I do not want you to have a permanent limp, unless of course, that does not bother you, in which case, I will remove the cast in its entirety and allow you to put weight on it.  You make the choice.”  He crossed his arms and stared at the King of Dale.

Bard closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and swore under his breath.  “Fine.” He muttered.  “The fact that I’m…  different now doesn’t make a damn bit of difference, does it?”

“On the contrary.  If you were still a normal Man, you would have to lie flat like that for at least three months, and a limp would be unavoidable.  As it stands now, you will suffer no lingering aches in old age, as a normal man would, so all things considered, I would think you would count your blessings, Bard.”

Thranduil looked at his husband, “He is right, _Meleth nîn_.”

“Hmmm…” Bard growled.

 “Let us see how things are progressing today, shall we?” Ermon stepped over and pulled Bard’s covers back.  Everyone was silent, as the Healer placed his hands on Bard’s leg and closed his eyes.  After a few minutes, his hands moved to his chest, to listen to his lungs, then carefully looked at his heart.  When he removed his hands and stood up straight, he said, “I believe we can remove the portion around your hips, so you can sit up.”

“Oh, praise the stars and all the Valar!” Bard said.  “I’m so fucking tired of being spoon fed, not to mention using that pitcher and privy pan!  I’ll be able to do for myself, now?”

“Your leg has most decidedly healed faster than is normal.”

“That’s all well and good, but how will we explain that to everyone?”

“Simple: Elven magic.” Ermon smiled. “Most men do not understand the extent, or lack of it thereof, so I doubt anyone would question things.  It is not a lie, as I am continually making sure the pieces of bone are set correctly, and do not move.” He looked at Bard with a steady gaze.  “My Lord, you will still have to stay in bed, until the end of the month.  Perhaps longer."

 ** _“WHAT?”_   **Bard was incredulous. “But _why?”_  

“I have told you this, many times before: you lost too much blood, Bard!  Even in Elves, it takes a while for your body to produce more, and to sustain you.  Though much of the volume of blood has been replaced, there is nothing in it to nourish your body and keep your organs functioning.  We will continue to feed you a diet of red meat and green leafy vegetables, and you will need to drink a great deal of milk, as well.”

“So, I need to stay put?” Bard cried dismally.  _**“Shit!”**_

“You will be in danger, if you try to get up and around.”

“But I’m feeling better!”

 _“Because_ you are on bed rest.” Ermon raised a dark eyebrow at his patient.  “Are you going to argue with me?  Because if you do not heed me, I will leave the cast where it is…”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Are you going to behave?” 

 _ **“Dammit!"** _ Bard lost his temper completely, and began to yell.  “I’m a King in charge of a brand-new country and there are buildings that need to be finished and arrangements to make for the children’s return –“  Bard gritted his teeth. **_“I will not_** lay in here when my people come back to Dale! I want to be there!  I really want to go get them, but I’d be a fool to think you’d allow that!”

“You are correct; I would not, but if you do as I tell you, you can observe the arrival of your women and children, at the end of the month.”

“I _will_ be there, whether you tell me I can or not!” Bard snapped. “Stop treating me like a petulant child, Ermon!”

“But _you are_ acting like a petulant child, Bard!” The Chief Healer finally lost his patience.  “Between you and Thranduil, I am at my wit’s end!”

“He is, and I don’t blame him one bit,” Percy said, from the door way.  “I’m fed up to my ears with the both of you!”

“But Pers –“

“Did you know you two made Tauriel cry, yesterday?” He gave them a disgusted look. 

“I did?” Bard gasped.

“He did?” asked Thranduil.

“Hey!” The Bowman glared at his husband.

“You **both** did, you _Trolls!”_ Percy yelled. “When Dáin found her crying in her room, you’re lucky he didn’t come in here and chop your bloody heads off! _”_

“It wasn’t just me!” Thranduil snapped.  “Bard has been acting like Beorn’s bear the last couple of days.”

“Well, at least _you_ can get up and around under your own power, even if it isn’t very much!  Nobody’s making _you_ take a piss in a vase, or shit in bowl and have someone else wipe your arse!”  Bard yelled at the very top of his lungs.  _“I’M SICK OF IT!”_ Then he took the cup on the stand beside his bed and threw it into the fireplace.

 _“THAT’S ENOUGH!_   You _both_ have been acting like spoiled, ungrateful jackasses!”  Percy roared.  “Tauriel’s been bending over backwards to try cheer you up, and all you do is snipe and bitch and moan and groan, not just to her, but to _everybody!_   Now, **_knock it off!”_**

“Where is Tauriel now?” Bard wanted to know.

 “She’s gone to the Erebor for a few days, with my blessing.” Percy continued to glare at them.  “You two have no _fucking clue_ how scared that girl was, not knowing whether she’d lose one or both of you, and you’ll _not_ come anywhere near her, until you both stop being such _**bloody** **arseholes**!”_

Thranduil was completely taken aback.  Not once, in his entire life, had anyone dared to speak to him that way, and he opened his mouth to reprimand him, but before he could, Ermon spoke up, with an exasperated tone.

“I am glad _somebody_ said it,” the Chief Healer crossed his arms.  “I have been in this profession longer than you have been alive,” he addressed Thranduil, “I served your parents, and I brought you into this world myself, and while I have to utmost respect for you as a King, **_you,_** along with your husband, are the _**worst**_ _**patients** **I** **have** **encountered** **in** **6000** **years**!” _ he shouted.

Percy went and stood by the Chief Healer with a gleam in his eye.  “Luckily, we won’t have to put up with you two much longer.  After your little stunt yesterday, Dáin and I made a decision.”

 “But –“ Bard began, but Percy didn’t let him finish.

“Shut up!  Everybody’s had enough of this shit from both of you!”

“What are you going to do?” Thranduil demanded.

“Nothing you do not deserve,” Ermon said, with a severe look.

Percy seconded.  “And I don‘t feel a bit sorry for you.”

“What?”  Bard cried.  “You can’t just –“

“Watch me.” The Steward narrowed his eyes.

After giving them smug, satisfied smiles, Percy and Ermon turned on their heels, and left the room, closing the door behind them.

Thranduil gave his husband an irritated look.

“What?” Bard grumped.

 

Their midday meals were brought on trays, but the guard who brought them, left abruptly again.  They managed to get through their lunch with a minimum of griping, and later that afternoon, Thranduil was sitting in the chair by Bard’s bed, reading aloud, when they heard sudden activity, outside.

“The wagons are here.” Bard observed, propping himself up. “They’ll be coming more often now, to bring the furniture and stuff from the Palace.”

“I hope the children sent letters,” Thranduil whined.  “I am bored.”

An hour later, Percy walked in with a stack of papers.  “These are for you two.”  He set them on the foot of the bed, and almost made it through the doorway, before he turned and said.  “Something else came for you, too.”

“Pers…” Bard asked warily.

Percy just laughed, and shut the door behind him.

Bard and Thranduil stared wide-eyed at each other.

Bard suddenly gasped. “Oh, _**no**...”_

”What is wrong, Bard?” 

“They wouldn’t...”

_“What?”_

“Oh, shit… _shit!"_ Bard scrunched his eyes shut.  

Thangon jumped to his feet and began to whine.  He tried to dive underneath Bard’s bed, but got himself stuck.  After he managed to struggle loose, stuck his head under his huge pillow on the hearth.

“Bloody coward.” Bard gave his dog a dirty look.

 _“ **WHERE ARE THEY?”**_ A voice was heard, followed by the sound of angry footsteps marching down the corridor.

“ _Ai! Amarth faeg!”_   Thranduil’s eyes widened like saucers, and he began to pray in Sindarin.

”We’re in for it now...” Bard murmured.

The door banged open. “YOU TWO!”

Hilda entered the room with her hands on her hips.  _"DO YOU REALIZE HOW MANY HOURS I JUST SPENT, RATTLING MY BONES IN A WAGON, **ALL BECAUSE YOU REFUSE TO BEHAVE?"**_

“Oh, _bloody fuck...”_ Bard groaned.

 _“WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE!”_ She pointed at Bard.  “ _DO YOU HAVE_ _**ANY** IDEA_ _HOW BUSY I AM, RIGHT NOW?_   _WHAT IN MORDOR IS **WRONG** WITH THE BOTH OF YOU?_   _I SHOULD BE BACK THERE, HELPING GET OUR FOLKS READY, BUT,_ **_OHHHH NOOOOO!_** _I’VE GOT_ _TO COME AND BABYSIT A COUPLE OF **CRANKY** **BABIES**!”_   She stomped her foot in fury _._

They both shrank back with red faces.

_“I OUGHTTA SLAP THE TWO OF YOU UPSIDE THE HEAD TILL YOUR **BRAINS** RATTLE!”_

“But Hil…” Bard began.  “It’s –“

“I -“ Thranduil tried to say.

“SHUT YOUR MOUTHS, BOTH OF YOU!  _I CAN’T **BELIEVE**  I HAVE TO COME AND MAKE YOU TWO BEHAVE! _  _YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES!”_

“Well…”  Bard started.

 _“NOT A WORD!”_ She pointed to Bard. 

Then she turned on Thranduil.  _“AND **YOU!**_   _YOU’RE JUST AS BAD AS HE IS!”_

“I am not! Bard is –“

"Hey!"  Bard smacked him with the back of his hand. "Will you _quit_ that?”

“ENOUGH!  She stomped her foot, again.  _“I’M READY TO TAKE YOU BOTH OVER MY KNEE AND SPANK YOU INTO THE MIDDLE OF NEXT WEEK, AND **DON’T YOU THINK I WON’T!”**_

“You would not dare!”  Thranduil said.

Bard smacked him again in the chest.  “Will you shut up?”  He hissed.  “You’ll just make it worse!”

 _“IF I HAVE TO BE THE ONE TO MAKE YOU TWO TWO ACT YOUR AGE, THEN BY THE VALAR, **THAT’S** WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN!  YOU WILL **NOT** DISRESPECT YOUR HEALERS, DO YOU HEAR ME?  YOU WILL **NOT** PICK FIGHTS WITH THE GUARDS, OR WITH PERCY OR WITH EACH OTHER, AND YOU WILL **DO AS YOU’RE BLOODY WELL TOLD!”**_ She stomped her foot, again.

Cheers and applause erupted from the corridor.  Bard looked around Hilda to see Percy, Ermon, Feren and the other residents of the corridor clapping their hands.  Ben was standing next to Alun, who stuck his fingers in his mouth let out a few whistles to punctuate his approval.  

(Percy would deny it later, but even _he_ was a little frightened of his wife right then.)

“You.” Hilda addressed Thranduil, who was still in the chair by Bard’s bed. “Get your arse back under those covers.” She pointed to his place on the beds.  “The Healer says you need to keep warm.”

“But –“

 _“WAS_   _I **ASKING?”**_   She marched over to his bed and whipped the covers back.  “GET UNDER THERE; **_NOW!”_** she ordered, with a face that dared him to defy her.

Completely cowed, Thranduil hung his head and did as he was told.  Once in, she pulled up the blankets, and tucked them tightly around him.  “There; snug as a bug.  And you’ll be staying in bed, too.  You’re not allowed up, unless it's to go to the privy, is that clear?”

“But I was allowed in the corridor to walk, before!”

“Not anymore, you’re not.  You will be _confined to this_ _room_ , until you’re done behaving like a Warg, and start acting like an Elf King, do I make myself clear?”  Hilda narrowed her eyes, and dared him to argue. 

Which he didn’t; he might be a great and mighty Elvenking, but he knew he when he was beat.

Then she stood up and went to the bottom of Bard’s bed.  “And now we will deal with _you,_ boy.”  She addressed Bard.

“What did I do?  I can’t bloody well move, so you can’t accuse me of- ” Bard yelled.

“No; you can’t move, and you bloody well won’t be, either.  You’re going to keep that thing on for an extra day, just for being so grouchy to Tauriel!”

“Hey!  It wasn’t just me!  Anyway, Ermon said they were going to take it off!”

“And I told him not to!  Instead, young man, you’re going to lie there, flat on your back and **_think about what you’ve done!_**   Is that clear?”

“But, Hil –“

“And, if you _still_ act up, it’s staying on longer, and **_I’ll_** take over duties with the privy pan and the pitcher!  They don’t need a Healer to do that, and everyone’s sick of your bad attitude!  It’s your choice, Bard; behave, or _I’ll_ be the one wiping shit off your arse!”

“You can’t do that!” Bard was repulsed at that thought.

“What are you going to do about it? Sic your guards on me?  Ha! Trust me; you won’t get any help from them.”

Bard opened his mouth a few times, then closed it, as he looked to his husband for support.  Thranduil just lay there, still wide-eyed, with the blankets pulled up to his chin.

“Now then,” she looked at them severely with her hands on her hips.  “Am I going to have any more trouble out of you two?”

“No,” the Kings looked down, avoiding her gaze.

“No, what?”

“No, ma’am,” they mumbled.

“Good.  You’ve had your lunch, so does anyone need the necessary?”

“No,” they said in unison, still not meeting her eye.

“Fine. You boys are going to take a nap, and I don’t want to hear a peep out of you, is that clear?”

“Yes.” Bard said, meekly.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Hilda.”

“What about you, Thranduil?”

“I will behave.”  Thranduil answered, docilely, then quickly added, “My Lady."

She came over to each side of the bed, and gave them a kiss on the cheek, as she smoothed the covers down.  “Now, you boys get some sleep, and we’ll talk later.” Before she reached the door, she turned for a final benediction: **_“AND BY THE VALAR,_** _**BEHAVE!”**_

Then she left, slamming the door behind her.

They sat in silence for several minutes, waiting for the ringing in their ears to stop.

“ _Avon cared!”_ Thranduil muttered, peevishly. 

 _“I HEARD THAT!”_ Hilda’s voice was heard through the door. "Yes, you will!"

 _“Rhaich!”_ The Elf rolled his eyes and punched his pillow.

 “Hush!  Just wait…”  Bard whispered. 

After a minute or two, they heard Hilda’s footsteps leaving her place on the other side of the door, and walk away.

“She was –“ Thranduil began.

“Shhh!  Hang on…  hang on a minute.”  Bard urged him to be quiet. “One… two… three… four…”

”What are you doing, Bard?”

”...five... six... seven...”

This time Bard only made it to ten, before the roar of laughter and applause reached them from the Grand Hall.

“They are laughing at us!”  The Elvenking sat up in alarm. “She went out and told everyone, and they are laughing!”

“I think it’s worse than that, love.” Bard rolled his eyes. “How much do you wanna bet, they took bets?”

Thranduil was shocked.  “Surely not!”

“You know Percy.”  Bard shrugged.  “Welcome to life in the Great Hall of Dale.”

“But surely –“

“Face it, love:  we’ve been taken down a peg or two, and we had it coming.”  Bard looked over at him.  “We _were_ pretty awful, weren’t we?”

“I have not been yelled like that since I was a small child...” Thranduil said in a thin voice.  “She is as bad as my parents!”

Over by the fireplace, Thangon pulled his head out from under his cushion and growled at them both in disgust. 

“So,  _now_ you grow a backbone?” Bard asked the dog.  "You’re  _supposed_  to protect me!”

Thangon harrumphed, and after another scathing look, he flopped back down on top of his bed, with his rear-end facing them.

“Traitor.” Hissed Bard, rolling his eyes.

“I cannot blame him, really.” Thranduil turned on his side to face his husband.  “Would _you_  growl at Hilda?”

“Not if I wanted to keep my balls.” Bard shook his head. “I’ve seen that dog when he’s ferocious, but even _that_ wouldn’t scare Hilda, when she gets her dander up.”

They lay there for a few moments in silence.

“Bard?”

“What, love?”

“Do you think Hilda enjoyed that?”

“She _absolutely_ enjoyed that.”

“When I was a child,  _Ada_ and Galion did their share of shouting, but _no one_ could put the fear of Mordor in me like _Nana_ could…”  He shook his head and sighed, wistfully.  “I miss her.  No matter how much trouble I got into, she always had a hug and kiss for me, at the end of the day.”  Thranduil yawned. “Just like Hilda.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad she’s here.”

Thranduil raised his head to look at Bard.  “I am too, but if you tell _anyone_ , I will deny it.”

Bard laughed, then kissed him, before they both settled down, and within minutes, both were in a deep restful sleep, as much of their worries had been lifted off their shoulders.

Now they were sure things would be all right; Auntie Hil was here. 

 

From his perch on the hearth, Thangon raised his head and watched them sleep for several moments, then put his head between his paws and closed his eyes.  At last; things would settle down and he could have some peace and quiet.

 

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _losta-luith_ \- sleeping-spell

 _AE! Avo dharo!_ – Ooh!  Don’t stop!

 _Ai! Amarth faeg!_ – Horrors!  Evil fate!

 _Avon cared!_ – I won’t do it!

 _Rhaich! –_ Curses!

 

 

NOTES:

According to my research, the volume of blood can be replaced in a body within four or five days, but it takes six to eight weeks to replace red blood cells.  Until then, Bard is severely anemic and must stay in bed.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda makes the Kings aware of the good that came out of their near-death experiences, and it surprised them both.
> 
> As the days progress, Bard gets a very special present for his birthday.
> 
> Finally!  The return of the “Elf Thing!”

 

 

**City of Dale, 8 th of May 2942 T.A.**

Later, after their nap, things calmed down, somewhat.

Hilda returned with some snacks on tray and a glass of milk for Bard.  “Now that we’ve got that nasty business out of the way,” she said, “we can get down to more important things.”  She went to Bard first.  “Come here,” and held him tight in her arms and whispered, “We were so worried for you, lovey.”

“I know, Hil.”  Bard hugged her back.  “I’m glad you came; really.”  It was true; he didn’t realize how much he’d needed her, until she arrived.

Hilda sniffed, and blinked back tears.  “Don’t you _ever_ do anything like that again!”  She stroked his hair.  “You’re the nearest I’ve got to a son; I couldn’t love you more if you were my own flesh and blood, and I can’t lose you.  I just can’t…”

“Oh, Hil,” Bard buried his head in her shoulder as his throat tightened.  The enormity of how close he came to losing all this hit him in a hard wave, and he held on to Hilda even tighter.  “I’m so sorry…” I’m so glad you’re here…” he whispered, as he felt her arms around him.

“Where else would I be? I needed to see you for myself, and make sure you were all right.”   She kissed his hair.

“Thank you,” Bard managed to say, “Thank you for taking care of the children.”

 “As long as there’s a breath in my body, I’ll look after all of you, love.  But you both need to stick around.”

After Bard settled a bit, she kissed him on the brow, then went over Thranduil.

“What you did,” she whispered, “was the bravest, most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard of,” her arms went around him.  “But I can’t lose you either!”  She pulled back and looked him over carefully.  “We were so worried when you were…  Stars, I can’t even say it!  Are you all right, pet?”

Thranduil smiled.  “I am, Hilda; or rather I will be.”

“You’re sure now?” She unconsciously ran her hands down his arms, to make sure. “Ermon said it was a miracle you didn’t die; he _still_ can’t figure out how you’re even still here!”  Hilda sniffled, then took Thranduil’s face in her hands.  “You look tired, and your skin is a bit dull, yet...  Are you sleeping enough?”

“It seems all I do is sleep.”  He smiled at her.  “I am sorry we have been hard to live with,”

“Not as sorry as you’ll be if you keep it up.” She laughed, as she wiped her eyes, and shook her finger at him.  “I meant what I said.  You’ll behave, or you’re going to know what true misery is.”

“I know,” Thranduil smiled.

“I’m sorry, too, Hilda.” Bard finally told her.  “I’ve been acting like a Warg – we both have.”

“Look boys, I understand what you’re going through; I really do.  I would probably be worse if it were me.” 

“I can’t hardly stand this, Hil; this cast is so uncomfortable, and I hate not seeing the work done!”

“Your cast will be taken from your waist tomorrow so you can sit up proper, and there is lots you can do from this bed, as long as you get enough rest.  The only difference is you can’t go out and pound nails.”

Bard sighed.  “I wanted to help.”

“Your heart isn’t quite strong yet, love. Ermon explained it to me, about your blood needing to be built back up, and if you push it, you could do real harm.  You can’t injure yourself at all.  If you begin to bleed for any reason right now, you may not be able to stop.”

Hilda raised her eyebrow and asked them, “If this were Tilda, and she refused to do what the Healers told her, what would you tell her?”

She had them, there.  Of course, they would make sure she did what she was told, and they were setting a terrible example, by their boorish behavior.

“When Ermon said you two were being selfish, he was telling the truth.”  She raised her hand to stop the protests.  “I know it galls you both that things are going on without you, but you’ve been so busy whining and moaning, neither one of you bothered to find out what’s been happening with your people.”

“What do you mean?” Thranduil asked, looking Bard.

“Things **_are_** going on without you, don't you get it?”

“I don’t understand,” Bard said.

“Did you ever stop to think what this was like for everyone out there?”  She pointed toward the direction of the Great Hall. “Hasn’t Ben been telling you that the building is actually ahead of schedule?”

“Well, yes, but –“  Bard said.

“Don’t you understand why?”

“They miss their families, I know that much.” Bard said, and Thranduil nodded his agreement.

“You’re still not getting it, boys.” Hilda shook her head.  “Your accident forced them to see that it’s up to _them_ to make the Northern Kingdoms work, not just the three Kings.”

“Really?”  

 “Did you know that while you two were asleep, those building and field crews nearly worked themselves into exhaustion?  The Market Square is done, the Healing Hall is done, and most of the houses are finished! The fields have been plowed and the planting’s already started!  The folks back at the Palace did the same thing, with furniture and other supplies, doubling the Guards, looking after the folks in the villages…   _Everyone -_ Men, Elves and Dwarves - are working together, like never before!

“That is remarkable!”  Thranduil exclaimed.  

“And best of all, they’re doing it without you!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bard asked, confused and a bit miffed. “We don’t want them to do it without us!”

“Of course, you don’t, love.  But remember what lives we had under the old Master, Bard?  How hopeless it all was?  These folks _wanted_ to believe in you, Bard; they were really trying, but it’s hard after watching so many of their dreams die in Laketown.  Then you nearly died, they lost hope again, until they realized what you’ve been wanting for them all along.”

“Which is what?”

“A Kingdom where these people could be in charge of _their_ _own_ destiny; where you're there to help them and protect them, not exploit them.  Well, they really believe in your vision now, and they trust Thranduil and Daín to continue protect us.”

The Kings sat back and digested all this for a minute or two. 

“So…  you’re saying that our near-death was a _good thing?”_ Bard was still a bit skeptical. 

Hilda shrugged. “Nothing brings people together faster than a tragedy.  _Your_ job is to figure out how to keep the momentum going.”

“She is right, Bard.  We should make sure our people get the credit they are due.”

 “How long can you stay, Hil?”  Bard asked her.

“Well, as much as you two would love me waiting on you hand and foot, I can only be away from our folks a week or so, but I’ll be here for your birthday.  I’m really here to inspect the homes for myself, and list what each family needs.  The Wagons will be coming every day, now, because I want them all set up before they return.”

“That’s a good idea.  Don’t you need help?”

“I’ve got it; the single women and moms without kids will be coming before the rest of them.  Once we know where everyone’s going, they’ll be working to set the houses in order.  The Men and Elves will be moving out of the Great Hall any day now.”

“Really?”

Hilda nodded.  “Ben and Percy thought it would be the best way to report leaky roofs, or smoky fireplaces, and things like that, and make repairs in plenty of time.”

 “That’s a great idea!”  Bard propped himself on his elbows.  “I want the houses for the older folks nearest to the Market Square and the Healing Halls, and extra railings on the stairs and along the walls.”

“Already on that, too.”  Hilda nodded.  “By the way, Percy will be going to the Palace with the wagons tomorrow.  I don’t want to leave the kids without one of us, and he could use the break, don’t you think?”

Thranduil and Bard looked at each other, and at Hilda.  “Is he all right?”

“He is, but…  He was frightened, too, love, and it took a lot out of him…  He needs to get some rest, and a visit with our kids will do him good.  I’ve also told Tauriel to stay in Erebor for an extra couple of days.  She looks terrible, Thranduil.”

The Elvenking looked stricken.  “I did not mean to  –“

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t, lovey.  This all got to be too much, and she needs some rest and quiet.  The boys in Erebor will give her some pampering, and Dwalin will help her work out her frustrations.  The poor girl has seen too much death, and she’s still grieving over Kili, so when she thought the both of you might leave her…  Tauriel misses the children and Galion, and she can’t go see them, can she?”

 “No, she can’t.”  Bard sighed.  “Galion’s just as much a parent to her as Thranduil.”

“Even more so.”  Thranduil said, thoughtfully.  “When I return to the Palace, I will discuss the matter with the Council.” Thranduil promised.  “This is definitely a matter which needs revisiting.”

Hilda got up and gave them each a peck on the cheek.  “Well, I’m going to go spend some time with Percy, before he leaves, if you don’t need anything else.   Make sure you finish that milk,” she told Bard, “it will help your leg.”

After she left, Thranduil leaned over and gave Bard a deep kiss.

“What was that for?”

“Not everything happens for a reason, but the Valar can bring reason into everything that happens.” Thranduil told him, with a relieved smile, before he kissed him again.

 

***************

 

Hilda shut the door to Bard and Thranduil’s room with a smile. 

It was great fun throwing a tantrum at those two, but most important, she’d finally gotten a chance to hold them both and love on them like she’d been wanting to since the accident. 

Bard and Thranduil could run their respective Kingdoms well enough, but it was Hilda who ran their ever-expanding family, and they all knew it.  When it came to domestic matters, everyone deferred to her, and they trusted her to keep them all flowing in the right direction, and in loving harmony.

She was amazed at how easily Thranduil, Tauriel and Galion fit in with the rest of them.  These creatures were practically ageless, but they found Hilda’s motherly ways a comfort, particularly Thranduil himself.  After long days full of heavy responsibilities, he reveled in the chance to let someone else be in charge, so he could just relax and enjoy himself. 

Over these past months, she’d become incredibly close to these Elves, and was glad of it.  It was one thing to care about them, because Bard did, but she now loved them for who they were, and now the family wouldn’t be complete without them.  Of course, she didn’t know Legolas very well, but like Thranduil, she prayed that would be remedied when the Prince returned.

All the possibilities for Dale were exciting, and they owed the Elves and the Dwarves a great deal of thanks, but very soon, it would be time for their citizens to bring their country into its own.  It was time for children to come home, for families to be reunited, for shops to open for business.

Yes: it was time for Dale to start.   

 

***************

  

**City of Dale, 9 th of May 2942 T.A.**

Oh, praise Ulmo and all the Valar, Bard could sit up! 

After breakfast, Ermon and his assistant carefully removed his cast, then replaced it with a splint around his thigh.

“Your leg is healing faster than I anticipated, but I am keeping this on for at least another week, Bard.  There were too many pieces of broken bone, and I am not taking a chance.”

“Oh, trust me; right now, I’ll take what I can get!  Stars that feels so good…”  Bard scratched his skin where the cast was.

“Now, let’s get you sitting up a bit…”  Ermon pulled Bard up against the headboard and propped him up with pillows.  “My Lord?”

“I’m fine…” Bard began to say, but his voice was thin and weak.

Thranduil was sitting beside his husband, became concerned.  “Bard?”

“Do not worry.  Bard is a bit light-headed but he will feel better in a few moments.” Ermon assured him.  After a few minutes, the Healers asked, “How do you feel?”

“A little better.  I’ve got my bearings now.”

“You’ve been lying flat for several weeks, plus you are still recovering from blood loss, My Lord.  Can you lean forward?”

Bard did so, and the Healer began to massage the muscles of his back.  “Oh, stars…” he moaned.  “That feels soooo good.”

“I can imagine.  Your muscles are weak after such inactivity, so I am going to prescribe a series of exercises, which will continue after the cast is removed.  Thranduil can help you with them, as long as he is recuperating.” 

The morning was spent teaching Thranduil and Bard how to do the exercises the Healer wanted done, then letting Bard enjoy eating off a tray.  During this time, Hilda popped in briefly to see them, before she went back to her inspections for the rest of the day.  That evening she ate dinner with them and they went over all the last-minute things that needed to be done.  As the Seneschal of Dale, she’d been busy assigning permanent offices in the Castle for its officials.

“Feren, Alun and Ben have already moved out of this corridor, so we’re getting those rooms ready for the children.  Feren’s office is set up in the barracks, but Alun’s and Ben’s have been moved across the main hallway into the East corridor.  In fact, I’ve set up a meeting place over there, too.  Your private study stays here, Bard, and Thranduil, you’ll be set up again in the room Ben used, so Galion and you can work from here.   This entire corridor is reserved for the Royal Family, so if you need to meet with someone, here – she pointed to where the infirmary used to be – is where they will be brought.  Feren and Tauriel tell me it will be much easier to keep you all well-guarded, if only certain people are allowed to enter the West Corridor.  How does that sound?”

“That’s good,” Bard said. “This gives our people the freedom to come and go as needed if they need to see any of us, but I don’t want lots of people roaming near the children.  Plus, it would be too hard for Alun, and especially Ben, to work out of their houses.”

“That’s exactly what I say.  He can’t have all those people at his house; it will upset the baby, and I think it would be too hard on Rhian.”

“I am glad Hannah will still be helping her.” Thranduil said.  “She is still doing well?”

“Oh, aye!  Indis moved out two weeks ago, and Rhian’s doing fine on her own.  She’s even joined the other ladies in self-defense training with Ruvyn and Ivran.  Sigrid’s been going with her, while Galion and I look after baby Darryn.”

“When are the children coming?” 

“Probably on the 25th, if the weather’s good.”  Hilda answered, then said.  “Now that you’re both a bit better, I’d like to meet with you two, Feren and King Dáin, to plan the trip.

“Good idea.  How soon can we do that?”  Bard asked her.

“I’ll set it up.”  Hilda got up with her papers.  “I’ve got a lot to do, so we’ll get together at dinner.”  She smiled, then went over to pet Thangon, before she left the room.

 

***************

 

 

**City of Dale, 13 th of May 2942 T.A.**

Bard still had to stay in bed, but many details concerning the return of the women and children of Dale needed to be worked out, so extra chairs were set up on their bedroom, for the meeting between the Three Kings, Feren, Hilda and Dwalin, who requested to be there. Galion was also present to record the notes.

No one needed to state the obvious: these wagons would be carrying the most precious cargo North possessed; the children of these Kindoms carried the future hopes of their people.

“There are things to consider before we undertake the transport of the families back to Dale,” Thranduil began.  “When we took them to the Palace, it was already winter, and there was little chance of spiders or Orc attacks, so the guard we had was more than sufficient.  However, the weather is much improved and those dangers must be considered.”

“Would it be better to bring them in smaller groups?” Bard suggested.

“I do not think so,” Feren said.  "The childless women and the men will be coming in three days, to get the moving started.  I think it would be safer to bring all the children at once, under heavy guard.” He turned to the Dwarven Commander.  “Do you agree?”

“Aye; I do.” Dwalin said.  “Better to make one trip, with extra protection.  We could help with that.”

“But you don’t have enough ponies yet to ride with the Elves, do you?”  Bard asked.  “If you marched, you wouldn’t keep up with the wagons, even if the horses walk the entire way.”

“We've thought o' that.” Dáin agreed.  “We could set up small camps along the road ahead o’ time, make sure the area’s clear, then keep watch as the bairns pass.”

“I like that!”  Hilda was enthused.  “The children will need to stop for nature breaks, so if we could have something set up for them ahead of time with the Dwarves there, I know I’d feel better.”

“I hate that I can’t be there,” Bard sighed and gritted his teeth.  “I could –“

“Hold it right there,” Dáin stopped that thought in its tracks.  “You’re no’ goin’ an’ that’s that.”  He turned to the Elvenking, who was about to open his mouth. “An’ tha’ goes fer you, too.”

“Look,” Hilda added, “you either trust your troops or you don’t, and I for one have complete faith in them.  I know you’d rather be there, but since there’s no getting around it, move on to other things.”

“So,” Feren unrolled a map over the foot of their bed. “Here are some strategic places your troops could set up,” he pointed.  “You’ll want to be where the clearings are smaller and the forest is closer to the road.  Over here,” he pointed, “as you can see there are large clearings so we Elves will easily see them coming, but here, here and here,” he showed them several spots, “are problem areas.”

“I see,” Dwalin scrutinized.  “That leaves a large gap in this area; we’ll set up there, too, I think.”

"In addition to the troops, we will have several Guardians stationed in the trees."

"Guardians?" Dáin look puzzled. 

"The Guardians of the Woodland Realm," Thranduil explained, "are an elite branch of my military that rely on stealth to achieve their goals.  They will keep watch and signal us if they spot trouble, and will try to head it off before it can even reach the road.  Most foes only know a Guardian is there, when they drop dead from an arrow out of nowhere."

“Thranduil?”  Bard asked.  “What about a sleeping spell?”

“I think we should be prepared to do that for at least the last two hours.” The Elvenking said.

“Sooner, even.” Hilda mused.  “Remember, the good weather will make them energetic.”

“Excellent point, Hilda.” Thranduil told her.  “I know Daeron will be coming, as well as Elénaril.”

“Send Ermon to the Palace to accompany them, too.” Bard advised. “The more Healers the better; if nothing else, they can work together to get the kids asleep.  You won’t be there Thranduil, and Ermon is a powerful Sindar.”

"Good idea."

So, it was settled.  The Dwarven troop will leave five days before the first wagons arrive, and get their stations and privies set up, and use that time to scour the woods for Orcs and spiders.  Each Dwarven unit will be accompanied by an Elf from the Woodland Guardians to help interpret the signals from the trees for them, to help their hunt.  So once the plans were set, Feren and Dwalin left the room with a bow, and got back to work, leaving the the Kings and Hilda.

Bard found this gratifying.  “Thank you for this,” He told Dáin.  “I’ll rest easier, once I know everyone’s home where they should be.”

“I will, too.” Dáin agreed.

“When is your family coming?  Shouldn’t they be here soon?  Could we help?”  The King of Dale offered. 

“I thank ye.  I’ve been waitin’ a long while to see my missus and the bairns, so I know how ye feel, Bard.”  The King Under the Mountain told him.

“You have four children, is that correct?”  Thranduil asked.

“Tha’s right.  My son, Thorin – I named ‘im after Oakenshield – will be stayin’ in the Iron Hills as the ruler.  He’s got a family of his own now, but we’ve got three daughters who’ll be comin’ with my wife, Dilna.  Dis, tha’s Oakenshield’s sister is comin’ along.”

“I remember Tauriel writing something about that.”  Thranduil remembered.  “I imagine she will want to pay tribute to her sons and her brother.”

“That she will.  They’re due to come soon.”

“Really?”  Bard sat up straighter. “I had no idea.”

“Well, you boys have been a bit preoccupied, haven’ ye?” The Dwarf King laughed.  “Seriously, though, I think my folks will need a bit o’ time to get settled in, and used to the idea of how things are here.  Gandalf’s supposed to come sooner, and he’ll be talkin’ to Dis about things.”

“So, she doesn’t know about Thorin’s Gold Sickness?”

“Aye, she knows, but it’ll take a bit o’ convincin’ to get her to change her mind about this fella,” he pointed his thumb at Thranduil.  “Remember, Thorins’s convinced everybody in the Blue Mountains the Elf turned ‘is back on ‘em.”

“But didn’t the Dwarves who received aid when Smaug came tell anybody?  Surely Dis must know about that.”

“She heard about it, Bard, but it’s one thing to read a missive; it’s another to see fer yerself.  She’s takin’ their deaths hard, so I’m hopin’ bein’ here and meetin’ Tauriel will convince her to think otherwise.”

Thranduil felt he had to be protective.  “I hope things go well, Dáin, but I will not allow my daughter to be exposed to any kind of anger or abuse.  While one can understand Lady Dis’s feelings, I ask you be sensitive to my daughter’s state right now.”

“I hear wha’ yer sayin’ and I agree.  She won’ be meetin’ Tauriel until I know she’ll be a’ least respectful, so ye don’ need te worry.”

“Speaking of Tauriel, thanks for looking after her.”  Bard said, sheepishly.  “We didn’t mean to upset her.”

 To their surprise, Dáin cackled with glee.  “Ye didn’ really make her cry - Percy was ayankin’ yer chains.”

“Hilda!” Bard was shocked.  “You all lied to us!”

“No, we just… exaggerated,” Hilda crossed her arms smugly.  “And you boys started minding yourselves, so it worked.”

Dáin laughed at her.  “I wish I coulda been here te see tha’!” he slapped his knee.  “But as it was, I won a fair bit on the pools.”

Bard rolled his eyes.  “I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark, and say Percy oversaw that?”

“Don’ look a’ me,” Dáin raised his hands in the air.  “He’s _yer_ friend.”  When he was done chortling, he added with some seriousness, “Ye’ve got te give the man credit, Bard.  Percy’s had the right idea, ye ken.  That lad kept everybody’s spirits up, through all the grievin’ and missin’ our families.  He’s done just as much to help relations, as we did wi’ our treaty!”

“I agree.” Thranduil said.

“You said Gandalf is coming?” Bard asked. “When?”

“Not sure, but when ‘e does, I’ve gotta bone to pick wi’ him.  I sent a Corbie to ‘im when ye had yer mishap, and never heard a blessed thing back.”  Dáin shook his head.

Bard looked at his husband, then looked at Hilda and Dáin.  “Shut the door, will you, Hil?  We need to tell you two something.”

So, the next hour or so was spent explaining to the Seneschal and the Dwarf King just how Gandalf helped them both.  When they were finished telling their tale, both were flabbergasted. 

When Thranduil related Mirelen’s words about Kili, the King Under the Mountain sat up straighter, and his jaw dropped. “Durin’s dick!”  Dáin exclaimed, and shook his head. “Tha’s…” he could find no words.

“This shouldn’t be made public.” Bard told him, “but I don’t think it’s a problem if a few people know.  Besides, I remember it, and I figure if no one was supposed to know, Gandalf would have made sure I forgot it, as soon as I came to.”

“Hmmm…”  Dáin stroked his beard, then asked Thranduil.  “And yer wife said we’d be getting’ help wi’ the war wi’ Sauron?”

“She did, but couldn’t give me details.  I’ve written to my kin in Lothlórien and to Mithrandir and Elrond for some insights, and I am hoping for news soon.”

Hilda was speechless.  “So… Mírelen was all right about Bard?”

“Yes.  In fact, she told me she liked him very much, and looked forward to meeting him.”  The Elf answered her with a smile.

“Oh, lovey,” she got up and kissed Bard’s cheek.  “That’s wonderful!” She smiled at Thranduil, and fussed over their covers.  “Can I get you anything?”

“No right now, Hil.  Thanks.”

“Oh!  I almost forgot!  The wagons will be bringing your new mattress; we’ll be setting up your big bed again.”

“Praise Ulmo!” Bard groaned.  “I’m grateful to the Dwarves for bringing these beds, but…”  The Bowman was rejoicing. “I’ll be able to get out of bed and sit on a chair!”

“Aye, and you’ll be getting right back in it, too.”  She kissed his cheek.  “I’ll check back in a couple of hours.”

Once the couple was left alone, Thranduil smiled at Bard.  “Here, _Meleth nîn_.”  He carefully rolled Bard onto his stomach.

“That feels good…”  Bard sighed into his pillow, when Thranduil began to massage his back muscles.   “Oh…” he moaned in bliss.  “This is better than sex…” the bowman’s eyes rolled into the back of his head.  “I can’t believe how good that feels!”

“If you truly think this is better than sex, _Meleth nîn_ , then you have been without for too long.”

“You won’t get an argument from me,” Bard closed his eyes, and was nearly asleep by the time Thranduil had worked all the knots and stiffness from his muscles.  His Bowman looked comfortable, so Thranduil curled around him, and after several long kisses, they settled down for a nap in each other’s arms.

 

***************

 

 **City of Dale, 15 th of May 2942 T.A.**

“ _Ada_?”  Tauriel smiled from the doorway to their bedroom.  “I am back!”

 _“Suilad,_ _Gwinïg!”_   He got out of bed and went to hug her.  “How do you feel?”  He kissed the top of her head, as he enveloped her in his arms. 

“Better.  I am sorry for what Percy told you.  I was upset, but not because…”

“I am not sorry they did, Tauriel.  We were acting like beasts, and Hilda thoroughly enjoyed yelling at us.”  He laughed.  “Apparently everyone in the Great Hall did, too.”

She giggled.  “Yes, I heard.”  She looked up at him.  “How are you?  How is Bard?” 

They both looked over at the bed, where Bard was sleeping on his stomach.  “He gains strength every day, as do I.  I am permitted to roam this corridor, but the Guards down there are under orders from Ermon and Hilda to let me go no further.”

“Well, at least you are up and around.”  She smiled.  “Would you like to sit in my room for a while?”

“I would.  I need to speak with you privately about something.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Once they were settled in the chairs by her fireplace, she gave him a worried look.  “Is something wrong, _Ada_?”

“Not at all, _Iellig,_ I have some things to share with you, and I hope it brings you comfort, because I do not wish to see you upset.”

Tauriel’s face became wary. “I do not understand…”

So Thranduil told her the story of his journey near death, and some of the things he learned from his wife.

“Was she real?  Or was it a dream, _Ada_?”

“I believe it was real, _Gwinïg. She_ felt as solid and warm in my arms as you do, and we spoke of many things which helped me a great deal, such as my love for Bard, and Legolas, too.”  Thranduil paused, then said, “We talked a great deal about her death.”

“Oh, no _...”_ Tauriel looked stricken.

“It was fine, _Gwinïg;_ shebroughtme a peace I have longed for since she died.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “You will be surprised to know that she even spoke about you.”

“Me? How does she know me?” Tauriel’s eyes grew wide and disbelieving.  “I was born after she died!”

“And yet she does know you, and I want to tell you what she said, because I think it will have great meaning for you.” 

Thranduil took her hands and said, “Tauriel, Mírelen wants you to know that, had she been alive when you came to the Palace, she, too, would have been proud to be your mother.  She is happy that we have each other, though I received much more than I gave for a very long time.”

“ _Ada_ …”  She squeezed his hands. 

“There is more.  I have been instructed to tell you that your birth father, Neldor, and your mother, Solana love you very much, and pray for you daily, as well as Mírelen.  They keep you in their hearts, and in their thoughts.  I have also been asked to tell you that Kili is now with his fathers, and has found comfort and solace.”

She gasped, “He has?  Truly?"

"Kili wants you to know he loves you still, and will watch over you for all of your days.  He wishes every happiness for you.”

Thranduil squeezed her hands, but she pulled them away, and sat back to take this all in.  One hand covered her mouth, and the other covered her heart, as she began to cry.   At his look of concern, she shook her head, to try to reassure him, though she could not form words. 

He got up and pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried herself out, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head, then he lifted her chin and wiped her eyes.  “So, you see, my little _Gwinïg_ , you need never fear being left alone, for you are very much loved.   All you have to do is look to the stars, and think of them, and you will feel them in your heart, as they bring you comfort.”

 

***************

 

 

 **City of Dale 18 th of May 2942 T.A**.

“Good morning!” Hilda smiled, as she came to take their breakfast tray.  “I see you’ve got a good appetite!”  She leaned over and gave him a big hug.  “Oh, my boy… Forty years old, already!  Seems only yesterday you were just a boy, following your Da and Percy around.” She sat facing him and patted his cheek.  “How do you feel, pet?”

“Better, now that we’ve got our bed back.  My back muscles don’t hurt anymore from that other mattress, and it’s much more comfortable without the ridge down the middle.”  Bard was leaning against the headboard, smiling.

“How’s the leg?” 

“Feels good.  No aches, no pains, nothing.”

“Oh, good.  Hope you like the present I’ve arranged for you.”

“No hints?”

“Not a one.”  She went over to Thranduil’s side of the bed and gave him a hug.  “You look good as new.  The color’s back in your face, and your eyes are bright as ever.”  She gave him a motherly smile.  “It’s a good day, isn’t it?”

“It is, _Brennil Vuin.”_ He kissed her hands.

Hilda smiled and fanned her face with her fingers. “Be still my heart.”  Then she got up and picked up the tray, and left.

Thranduil got up and locked the door.  “Are you still hungry, Bard?”

“Oh, yes,” the Bowman grinned, as his eyes grew dark.  “Starving, actually.”

“Good.”  Thranduil walked over to the bed and lifted Bard’s night shirt over his head, as he reached in the drawer of the nightstand for the oil.

“Are we allowed to do this?”

“Probably not, if I do not feel you inside of me very soon, I will die from the longing for you.  Please…”  Thranduil leaned down and took Bard in his mouth and began to suck greedily.

Bard gasped, and curled his hips up, as he scrambled for a hold in the sheets, and whimpered. “I love it when you suck me so hard…” He lifted his hips as best he could, to thrust into his Elf’s mouth.

Thranduil answered with a low growl, and ran his tongue around the head of his cock to tease him, then smiled as the Bowman’s breath hitched.

“Give me that,” Bard grabbed the bottle of oil from the Elf’s hand.  “Turn around.”

Thranduil quickly removed his night clothes and straddled Bard once again, facing the other direction.  Bard moaned at the sight of the Elf’s beautiful, perfect arse before him.  He ran his hand over the cheeks and the small of his back, then oiled his fingers and inserted one, as he reached between his legs and took hold of his cock began to pump it. 

 _“Ai, ma!”_ Thranduil whimpered. _“Gellon n'i iuithog i lebir gîn!”_ His head sank low into the mattress, as he made mewling sounds of pleasure, which only spurred Bard on. 

He let go of Thranduil’s cock and squeezed and ran his hand along Thranduil's inner thighs, still massaging the Elf’s prostate with his finger, and was rewarded with a yelp.  The sounds turned into a moan, when Bard parted his cheeks and lowered his mouth, to lick and suck on his entrance, then inserted two fingers underneath his tongue.

At this the noises turned frantic, as he worked his husband’s body open, playing it like an instrument to get the sounds he wanted.  Bard loved making his husband desperate like this, and his own cock twitched in anticipation of Thranduil hot, tight heat surrounding him…

After a prolonged animal-like noise from his husband, Bard removed his tongue and fingers as Thranduil turned around, oiled Bard’s hard, throbbing cock and straddled him, giving him a deep, filthy kiss, as Bard grabbed his hips and guided himself inside the heat of his Elf.

Bard had not been inside his husband in over a month, and he sobbed out unintelligible words as he became one with Thranduil, and their _fëas_ touched in the way it only did when they were joined.  It was a bliss that ran through them like fire.

“Oh, gods I’ve missed you so, so much…” Bard whispered roughly.   Once Thranduil as fully seated, they wrapped their arms around each other tightly, and he felt his Elf kiss his hair and sigh.

Then Thranduil began to move with his hand on Bard’s shoulder, and the other buried in Bard’s thick curls.  His hips gracefully undulated in a circular motion as his muscles flexed so beautifully, Bard became almost hypnotized at the sight; but that did not stop him from adding to his husband’s pleasure.  He  began to suckle one of Thranduil’s nipples, as his oiled hand began to pump the Elf’s long hard cock with rapid strokes.  His other hand reached around and massaged his buttocks, which apparently his Elf seemed to like, from the way his fingers dug into Bard’s upper back, as cried out.

Bard took his mouth off Thranduil’s nipple and looked up into his stormy eyes, “You are so beautiful…   Look at me, love.  Tell me you feel me; tell me you feel how much I love this.”

The Elf met his eyes, “Bard, I have missed this with you.  _Ci velethril e-guil nîn,”_ he moaned.   “I feel your hardness in me, and the fullness of your heart, _Meleth nîn_.  I feel you about to explode in me.  I love you so much…”

“Come with me.”  Bard gasped, as he felt the pleasure build in his body, and his muscles begin to tense.  “We’re almost there, love...  Oh, gods, we’re almost there...   I love it when we come together…  Come with me...”

It was true.  They both came at the exact same moment, and saw a rainbow of color in each other’s eyes, until they were blinded by the brightness of it.  Did they cry out?  Bard couldn't remember; all he knew was the explosion of bright stars, rapture and pleasure flow through him, and the depths of each other’s eyes.  For those few seconds, there was nothing but the two of them.   For those few seconds they were truly one being.

When Bard came back to awareness, he was still Thranduil’s arms, they were still joined, still moving, and blue-grey eyes were locked with his brown-green ones, and he was hazy from one of the best climaxes he’d ever had.  He sighed as Thranduil kissed him, still moving up and down, but gently.  At last they were still, but their lips did not part, and hands were holding his face, as their tongues danced together in a celebration of the utter and complete joy they just felt with and for each other.  The kiss went on and on, which was fine with Bard, because they both were enjoying the aftershocks of their coupling and they never wanted this beautiful experience to end.

When at last Thranduil broke away to kiss his forehead and lay his head on the top of his, they both sighed.  “That, _Meleth nîn_ , was almost as wonderful as our wedding night,” he whispered.  “Never have the colors been so bright, so vivid…  Our _fëa_ sang with utter joy, Bard.”

Bard wiped a tear away, as he rested his cheek against Thranduil’s chest, while his husband ran his fingers through his thick black curls.  They both were still panting, from the exertion, but he managed to say, “I love you…  I love that we don’t have to try to describe it…” Another tear threatened to fall.  “Do you realize what a gift it is to know what it’s like for you, as well as me?  It’s always a surprise how good it feels.”

“It truly is a gift,” Thranduil said softly, then he kissed Bard’s hair again, then brushed the hair away from Bard’s face and gave him a look of pure love.  “Happy Birthday, _Hervenn nîn.”_

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Brennil Vuin_ – Beloved Lady

 _Ai, ma!_ – Oh, yes!

 _Gellon n'i iuithog i lebir gîn!_ – I love it when you use your fingers!

 _Ci velethril e-guil nîn_ – You are the love of my life

 _Hervenn nîn_ – My husband


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard's birthday gets better and better...

 

**City of Dale, 18 th of May; 2942 T.A.**

After they finally were calmed down, Bard smiled up at Thranduil.  “I can only think of one other thing I’d like today.”

“And what would that be, _Meleth_?”  Thranduil was still straddled in his lap, and had his arms around Bard’s shoulders and one hand stroking the hair on the back of his head.

Before Bard could answer, there was a knock on their door.  “Lord Bard?”   It was Ermon, the Chief Healer.

“Just a minute.”  Quickly Thranduil got off his husband’s lap, grabbed his pajama top to wipe off Bard’s stomach and then clean himself up as best he could, as Bard yanked his night shirt back on.  After Thranduil tied his bottoms back on, he went to unlock the door.

The Chief Healer took in the state of their bed, their mussed hair, and their sheepish smiles.  “Ah.  I see you have had ‘breakfast.’”

Bard blushed, and looked at his lap.  “Sorry.”

“No matter,” the Healer said with a straight face.  _“Everyone_ could tell you were enjoying yourselves, by the racket you were making.  I believe Alun won the bet as to how long it would take for you two to finish.”

 _“Amarth faeg!”_ Thranduil gasped, and cursed with horror.

At the sight of their faces, Ermon burst into laughter.  “I am just teasing you, but I know Lord Percy would pay a fortune to see the looks on your faces!”

“That was cruel!” Bard griped.  “Percy’s a bad influence.”

“Perhaps, but it has been a long winter, I miss my wife, and I need to find laughter where I can,” the Healer said with a smile, but then he said, “Please do not worry, Lord Bard; I do not compromise the dignity of my patients, especially that of my King.”

Bard heaved a sigh of relief.  “I suppose we should have asked you first, but…”

Ermon shook his head.  “Do not worry on that account, either; you both are much better, and while I worry about the physical exertion, the healing benefits far outweigh the dangers at this point.  In fact, I strongly recommend that you do this as often as possible, provided Thranduil does most of the…work, if you understand.”

“Uh, well, he. I mean, I…”  Bard sputtered.

“Good to know,” Ermon interrupted, “Just… keep doing that.”

Thranduil couldn’t stop the smile.  “You mean we are free to…”

“Oh, yes.  A strong _fëa_ will strengthen the body.”  Ermon put his hands on his hips.  “Lord Bard, I should like to wish you many happy returns on the day of your birth.  It seems appropriate that my gift would be the removal of your cast, if that is agreeable to you?”

“’Agreeable?’” Bard sat up straighter.   _“Ulmo’s balls; **yes!**_   How soon can you get this cursed thing off?”

“Right this minute, after I check the leg once more.” Ermon placed his hand over Bard’s leg and closed his eyes.  Thranduil stood beside him and put his hands over the Healer’s and centered himself, so he could see, as well.  The bone was _perfect._   The spider web-like fracture was filled with new bone growth, which was stronger than the actual bone itself.  Each piece was where it should be, and the muscles around it were a healthy color, no longer angry and dark – Bard had healed completely.

Thranduil smiled as he took his hands off, and opened his eyes, but he stepped back so Ermon could do his job.  The assistant came in and together they cut the hard cast down one side, then carefully pried it off Bard’s thigh, exposing the pale skin, which quickly became pink, as Bard scratched the area with a blissful moan.

“My Lord, your leg is almost as good as new.” The Healer told him with a smile.

“Almost?”  Bard looked nervous.

“The only reason I say this, is because you have not used it, so it is weaker than is normal, but that is easily remedied.”  The Healer smiled, then went to the doorway and came back with a cane.  

“I can get up?”

“You may get up.  Your confinement is officially over, although I need to you ease into regular activity - your body is not accustomed to it yet.”  Ermon reached over and helped Bard sit on the edge of the bed.  “Now put your right hand on the cane and put some weight on it… That is it…” he grabbed Bard by the elbow and helped him to stand.

“I’m standing!”  Bard yelped with glee.  “Praise the Valar!”  Then a wave of dizziness made him wobble a bit.  “Oh…”

“That is normal; you have not stood in many weeks, so your body needs to get used to it.” The Healer kept a firm grip on his elbow.  “Put some weight on the cane, rather than your leg…”

After a minute, Bard’s vision cleared. 

“Better?”

“Yes.  Oh, just think: freedom!  No more privy pans, no more pitchers…”

“True, and yet another surprise awaits that we thought you might enjoy.”

“What?”

“Take a step, and make sure to keep using the cane…  This way…”  Ermon and Thranduil helped Bard walked to their necessary room, where a hot, steamy bath awaited him. 

“That,” Bard said, in a faraway voice, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life…  Isn’t it _magnificent_?”

“It will be more so when you get in it, My Lord,” the Chief Healer suggested.  “There is _Athelas_ oil in it, to help with any lingering muscle stiffness, and over there,” he pointed, “is your change of clothes…”

“Clothes?  I get to wear **_real clothes_** again?”  Bard squealed like a maiden, but he didn’t care; he would have danced a jig if he could.

“Here; let us help you get in.”  Thranduil got him out of his nightshirt, and both Elves helped him settle in.

The steamy water with the healing herb refreshed them all, and took away any soreness, and all heaviness that had been lingering in Bard’s heart was gone. 

“I will leave you and Lord Thranduil to it, then.  Enjoy.”  Ermon smiled, and left the room.

The Elvenking smiled down at his Bowman.  “How do you feel?”

“Not as good as if you were in here with me,” Bard told him, then scooted forward so Thranduil could sit behind him and hold him. “Now…  it’s absolutely perfect.”  He laid his head on the Elf’s shoulder.  “Mmmm... I’ll never take things like this for granted again, love.”

“I will not, either.”  Thranduil took some shampoo and washed Bard’s hair thoroughly, then his own.  Then he washed their bodies, as Bard continued to lay back against him, murmuring endearments. 

“I hated that we were both sick, but do you realize how wonderful it’s been to be beside you, night and day?  To wake up next to each other _every single morning?_   We were married five months ago, and this is the most we’ve been together since!”

“It is sad that it took things like Tilda’s illness and your injuries to bring it about, but do not linger on such things, _Meleth nîn_ ; all that matters, is that we will never be parted like that again.”

“Never,” Bard whispered.  “In a way, it feels like it’s more than Dale’s beginning: our own life is officially starting!  No more separations, no more scrambling to keep my people from starving, or worried for their safety…  I’m so happy, love.”

“All the peoples of the North have taken some time to grieve; now we will begin our journey forward as a united force.”

Bard looked at him thoughtfully.  “Do you think Hilda was right?  Are the people as committed to this as she says?”

“The only way we shall know for sure is to see what happens, _Meleth nîn_.  Hilda also likes to say, ‘Hope for the best; prepare for the worst.’  But for now, let us think of more pleasant things.  I am sharing a very nice bath with my husband, whom I have missed very much.”

Thranduil kissed the side of Bard’s neck, as he ran his fingers up and down his Bowman’s chest, then lower, lightly touching the skin all around the Bowman’s cock, without touching it.  Bard sighed, and spread his legs as wide as he could.

“Mmmm…  Stop teasing me.”

Thranduil smile against Bard’s ear, as he whispered, “I love your body, Bard.  I love the hair on your chest, and especially around your cock; you look so wild, and it’s all I can do to keep from coming when I think about it.  All those nights alone at the Palace, I dreamed of seeing it and touching your cock like this…  I love to watch it pulse when you are hard and aching for me; it’s so thick and long and when you are inside of me, I feel so full; so complete.  How I ached all those nights for you…”

“Did you touch yourself, Thranduil?”  Bard whispered, his eyes closed, and head resting back on his husband’s shoulder.  Thranduil’s seductive words had their usual effect, and he was half-erect already.  “Did you touch yourself when you thought about me?”

“How could I not?  After all the joys you and I shared together, I tried to imagine it was your hands, your fingers inside of me, making me weep with pleasure but it was never good enough, because it wasn’t you.  The way you touch me inside is so perfect; you bring things out in me I never knew were possible…”  Thranduil nibbled on Bard’s ear, then sucked on his earlobe.  “Did you enjoy touching yourself and thinking about me?” he breathed.

“Mmmm… All the time.”

“Show me, Bard.”

“W-What?”

“Show me how you touched yourself, when you missed me; show me how you pleasured yourself.  I want to watch.”

“Oh, you do?”  Bard teased.  “Is that a command, My King?”

“It is.” Thranduil could feel his own cock twitch with excitement.

“I like it when you touch me here,” Bard ran his fingers under the head of his cock, back and forth.  “Oh, I love that…  When I’m in your mouth, and you tease that with your tongue, I can hardly see, it feels so good…”

Thranduil kissed Bard’s shoulder.  “Tell me more.” 

“You lick me from my balls all the way to the tip, and make me squirm,” Bard’s hips moved, as his fingers ran up and down the shaft, “then you play with the slit in the top with your tongue and it makes me crazy,” he rubbed the tip with his thumb.

“What else to you like, Bard?  Show me.”

Bard began to massage his balls.  “I love it when you suck on these,” he massaged his balls, “and you kiss me here,” he rubbed the skin behind them.  And you know exactly how I like it here…”  he ran his other hand lightly over the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, “And here…”  the Bowman began to pant, as he put his hand on his cock and stroked it up and down, twisting his fingers when he reached the tip to tease himself, with a small shudder.

Thranduil was rock-hard now, and he swiveled his hips to rub his cock against Bard’s back.

“Ooohhh…” Bard teased, “You like what you see?”

“Yes…” the Elvenking breathed.  “Oh, yes…   Do you like it when I put my fingers inside of you?”

“Oh, fuck yeah…”  Bard reached for the bottle of _Athelas_ oil and poured some on his fingers, then reached below his balls and inserted one into himself.  “Even when it stings at first, it feels good; just a little bit of pain makes the pleasure even better…”  Bard jumped, “ohhh…” his head fell back onto Thranduil’s shoulder.  “There’s the spot…  Oh, fuck… it’s there… it’s right there, love…”

“Do you like how I touch you there?  Tell me how you like it…”

“I don’t ‘like it,’ I _love it,_ and you know just how to do it, too.  Not too hard; you know to do it just right, when you tap your fingers on it really fast… it sends bolts of lightning all through me, then you rub it in circles…”  Bard whimpered softly, and his breath became more urgent, as his other hand began to pump his cock.

“Is this what you did alone, when you missed the touch of my body?”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” Bard moaned.  “I wanted it to be you so bad… I wanted you inside me…  Oh gods, Thran…  I want it to be you, fucking me so hard…”

“Put in another finger and play some more; I want you to enjoy it.”  Thranduil licked his lips.  He moved his cock slowly up and down Bard’s back as his breathing came faster.  “I love watching you…”

Bard did as he was told, and moaned, as he curled his fingers and played.  “I think of your long hard cock filling me, and your fingers wrapped around me.  Your cock is driving me wild; you hit that magic place every time you thrust it into me…”  His hands began to move faster and his moans became more urgent.

“Come Bard; come for me; make yourself come!”  Thranduil had reached in between them and was urgently began to stroke himself, as he sensed Bard’s pleasure through their bond.

“Do you feel me want to come, Thranduil?  I want to come so bad, can you feel how much I want to come?”

“Yes!”  Thranduil took his other hand and pinched Bard’s nipple hard, as he stroked himself rapidly.  _“Ai ma!  Si tolo, Bard!_   Do it now!”

Bard stiffened as his body curled into itself, and he thrust his hips up hard and cried out through gritted teeth as he came all over his stomach.  Thranduil was not far behind, as he reveled in his husband’s ecstasy, and held Bard tightly against him as cried out.

At last, their breathing went back to normal, and they both sank back into the water with a sigh. 

“I adore you, Bard, King of Dale, my very own husband.”  Thranduil wrapped his arms and legs around his Bowman.  “I absolutely adore you.”

Bard reached his arms up behind him and pulled Thranduil’s head down and gave him a long, deep kiss.  “I still can’t believe it sometimes; the great and mighty Elvenking loves _me._   You’re mine, and you will be till the end of time - how great is that?”

They looked into each other’s eyes and knew they were both blessed.

“The water’s getting cold, you know.” Bard whispered, not wanting to break the spell.

“As much as I love being here with you, we must get up.  Sit forward,” he instructed, then he got out, dried himself, then helped his husband into the chair, so they could finish drying and get dressed.

Once they both had their clothes on and hair combed, there was another knock on their bedroom door.

“Come,” Bard said.  “We’re decent!”

Hilda opened it with a smile.  “Glad to hear it.”  She went over and threw her arms around Bard.  “Oh, it’s grand to see you on your feet!” 

“It feels wonderful, Hil.” He smiled into her shoulder.  “It really does.”

She released him with a smile.  “I thought you both could have lunch with everyone in the Great Hall; would you like that?”

“Absolutely.”  Bard reached for his cane, as Ermon arrived to help him.

“Which hand should I put this thing in?” Bard asked. “I’ve never used one before.”

“Many use the opposite hand, as a counter-balance.  However, you are right-handed, so you might be more comfortable with it in your left, and just move it with your leg.  Try both, and do what works for you.”

“Good enough.”  Bard tried walking around the room, and decided he liked his right hand free. “Come on; let’s get out of this room!” he grinned at Thranduil.  “Have you been past the corridor yet?”

“No, I have not.  Ermon has ordered the guards to keep me in this area, but I have been walking up and down each day while you nap.”  Thranduil told him, as they made their way through the bedroom door, with Ermon and Hilda behind them.

“WOOF!” At the end of the corridor, Bard’s dog was thrilled to see his master up and about.  Thangon ran past the guards with a joyous yelp, and made for his master at breakneck speed.

“Whoa…”  Bard started, but before he could do anything else, Thangon stopped himself a few feet away with his tail wagging, turned and positioned himself on Bard’s right side, by Thranduil. “WOOF!” he declared happily.

“Looks like he wants to help support you.”  Hilda marveled.

“Good boy; are you going to help me if I fall, yeah?” Bard scratched the dog behind the ears. 

Thranduil was impressed.  “I think he is, Bard.  If you do fall, he will keep you from injuring yourself.” He stroked the huge dog’s head and said, _“Mae garnen,_ _Thangon,_ _Mellon_ _nîn_.”

“Let’s get going, then.”

As they made their way toward the Great Hall, Bard marveled at the quiet.  “Is everyone outside?  Usually there’s all kinds of noise out there.”

“I’ve been too busy packing and fussing over you to notice, love,” Hilda answered him.

The quiet was eerie, the closer they came to the double doors that opened to the Hall.  There was no one there.  Not one person.

“What’s this?” Bard whispered, and his voice echoed in the emptiness.

“I do not know…”

“Shhh!” Hilda whispered. “Just keep quiet and make your way outside, and don’t say a word.”

“What do you mean?”  Bard couldn’t help but ask.

“You’ll see.  This is what I’ve been telling you boys, and they’ve got a gift for you, too.  Just get out there and stand at the top of the steps.”

Hilda, Ermon and Thangon helped the two Kings get to the main doors, and two more Elven guards opened them, and they walked out into the sunshine.  The courtyard in front of the Great Hall was packed full of folks from all three races of the North!

On the dais above the steps was King Dáin, who took his place on Bard’s left, and signaled for them to wait.

The crowd parted, and Alun, Dwalin, and Feren walked up, and stood at the foot of the stairs, and stood at attention.  Then Alun stepped up, bowed low to the three Kings, turned toward the crowd, and said in a loud, clear voice: 

“Do you, People of Dale pledge your fealty to Bard, son of Brand, heir of Girion, King of Dale?    Will you honor Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm, and Dáin, son of Náin, King Under the Mountain?”

At once, every Man in the courtyard went down on one knee, and bowed their heads.  “Hail, King Bard!  Hail, King Thranduil!  Hail, King Dáin!”

“Oh…”  Bard breathed.  “This is…”

“Shush yerself,” Dáin whispered out the side of his mouth.  “They’re no’ done.”

Feren stepped up, and bowed before them, then turned to the crowd:

_“Edhilren Eryn Aranarth!  Gwestamen Thranduil iôn Oropher, Aran Eryn Aranarth!  Egleriam Aran Bard!  Elgleriam Aran Dáin!”_

With the utmost precision, as is the way of Elves, they dropped to one knee, and with their hands over their hearts, said in strong, clear voices: _“Suil, Aran Thranduil!  Suil, Aran Bard!  Suil, Aran Dáin!”_

It was Dwalin’s turn to come up the steps and bow, and speak to the crowd in Khuzdul:

 _“Khard rōk Urdêkul! Né belgond varak Uzbad Dáin Ifthu-zirin, Grimstnzborith!  Hurmel, Uzbad Bard_ _rōk_ _Neidar!  Hurmel, Uzbad Thranduil rōk Vruden!”_

Every Dwarf in the courtyard went down on one knee, beat their fists over their hearts three times, and shouted, “Shamukh, Uzbad Dáin!  Shamukh, Uzbad Bard! Shamukh, Uzbad Thranduil!”

Bard and Thranduil were speechless, but the ceremony wasn’t finished.

King Dáin stepped forward, raised his hand over the crowd and said in Westron: “Dwarves of Erebor: Do you give your solemn oath to protect the Northern Kingdoms from any and all enemies, who seek to destroy our peace?”

The Dwarves got off their knees and with and beat their chests again, one for every King in the North, “We do so vow, King Dáin!”

Dáin gave Thranduil a meaningful look, and Hilda whispered, “Go on!”

So Thranduil stepped forward, raised his hand, and said, also in Westron.  “Elves of the Woodland Realm:  Do you pledge to protect not only our lands, but come to the aid of all Kingdoms of the North to protect it from its enemies, both near and far?”

The Elves stood up, clasped their hands to their hearts and extended it in unison toward their liege.  “We do so vow, King Thranduil!”

Bard felt a nudge in his side, so he stepped forward, leaning on his cane, and raised his right hand over the still-bowed heads of his people and said, with great emotion in his voice, “Men of Dale:  Do you give your solemn oath to protect not only this Kingdom, but to aid all the Kingdoms of the North?  Will you swear to protect the peace that exists here between Men, Elves and Dwarves?”

Finally, the Men of Dale stood at attention, raised their arms, touched their temples with their flattened hands, and he’d them there, saying in unison: “We do so vow, King Bard!”  As one, they lowered there hands, and proudly stood at attention.

With that a loud cheer went up in the courtyard, along with applause, and caps were tossed into the air.

Ben stepped over and handed Bard a thick scroll.  “This was signed by every Man, Elf and Dwarf here, My King, as proof of our commitment.  Many happy returns of the day, Bard.”

“Thank you…” Bard’s eyes swam, and his throat tightened and began to hurt.  Blinking rapidly, he did his best to smile and wave at the crowd, but shook his head when the Men of Dale asked for a speech.  He put his hand over his heart and blinked away the tears, as he mouthed “thank you,” over and over.

When he could see again, he saw that Thranduil was also emotional, but he managed to cover it a bit better.  Tauriel ran up the steps and was swiftly enveloped in her father’s loving arms, and Thranduil buried his face in her hair, as she leaned her head against his shoulder and sent Bard a loving smile.  After giving Bard a hug, she surprised Dáin by kissing him on the cheek. 

“Get on wi’ ye then, lass,” Dáin was blushing, and couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Bard turned to his left and shook Dáin’s hand.  “This was…” he cleared his throat. “This was… perfect, Dáin; I can’t tell you how much this means to me, to all of us.”

“Don’ look a’ me, lad.  ‘Twas the men’s notion to do this.  Hope it suits ye.”

“’Suits me?  This is what I’d hoped for!” He smiled and leaned on his cane, trying to hide his fatigue, but Dáin was too quick for him.

“See here, Bard; we need to git ye inside an’ sittin’…  Hilda!” he called.

The Seneschal scooted over.  “Come on, Ermon; lets get Bard to his table!  Let’s go, pet.”  She took one arm and Ermon took the other, while Thangon walked in front to clear the way.”

Bard was seated at a table closest to the back hallway, with his leg up on a stool, and Thranduil was soon seated beside him.

Bard smiled at his husband.  “How are you holding up?”

“I am well, but plan to join you after lunch to rest.”  The Elvenking quickly added the last part, when he saw the Chief Healer scrutinize him.  “Yes, Ermon, I will take your advice, so you need not worry.”

“Excellent.” Ermon gave him a lopsided grin.  “I would hate to have to have the Guards haul you back there, in front of all these people.”

“Now then; let’s get lunch served!”  Hilda got up and went to the kitchen door, where several cooks had been working to prepare a feast.  Bard could even see Bombur in there, waving his ladle around, chatting merrily with the crew.  Soon, heavily laden trays were brought forth and set before them, and everyone tucked in.

As they were eating, Bard looked around and saw that all the beds had been removed from the Hall – and extra tables had been set up to accommodate the large crowd. 

“Has _everyone_ moved out?” he asked Alun and Ben.

“Almost.  The Elves went to their quarters at the new barracks, and most of the Men took up residence in their houses last week.”  Alun said with a smile. “We still eat our meals in here, though, and gather for an hour or two to have a pint, or play a game.”

“How is your house?”  Bard asked him.

“Oh, it’s a bit rough, but not much worse than we had in Laketown, if you remember. It feels grand to have a place of my own, again.” 

“How about the Marketplace?  What’s going on there?”

“The merchants have been assigned their spaces, and soon they’ll be in business.  I’ve been meeting with them for weeks, to finance them and help them send for supplies to get started.  Most of them will be simply filling orders, until they get caught up enough to have displays, mind you.  The Potter’s shop, the Weavers, the Carpenters have already gotten started, and we’ve got two Blacksmiths setting up on either end of the city.  It’s all coming together, My Lord.”

“I’d like to spend some time in your office within the next couple of days, to be brought up to speed, if you would.”

“I’d be happy to show you, sir.”  Alun smiled.  “I’ve almost finished getting Rhys’s room ready.  It’ll be good to have my boy under the same roof, again.”

Thranduil smiled and raised his glass.  “I have enjoyed looking after him, Alun he is a credit to you and his mother.  He has been a good and supportive friend to our Bain, as well as our girls.  We consider him one of the family, so do not hesitate to tell me if there is something I can do for him.”

“Aye, My Lord; I thank you.  He’s a good boy, and luckily he looks like his Mam, so he’ll be a handsome one, too.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Bard said.  “I see a lot of you in him, and that’s something for him to be proud of.”  Changing the subject, he asked, “How is Ina?”

“She’s improving, Lord Bard.  Mistress Írimë thinks I should make a trip to the Palace to see her soon – sometime this summer.  Mother has decided to stay there permanently, and that’s probably a good thing.  She is starting over, really, and there, she won’t have to face people who still don’t know the whole story.  The Elves treat her kindly, and her days are quiet and peaceful, which is exactly what she needs.”

“I agree,” Thranduil said.  “Mistress Ina will be given the utmost courtesy, for as long as she wishes to stay.  I do not know how well she can be, after all she’s been through, but if she can find contentment in my Halls, she is more than welcome.  I have written to Írimë giving her permission for Ina to walk in my private gardens any time she wishes, provided she is escorted.  The fresh air and sunshine will do her good, and she’ll have all the privacy she needs.”

“I thank you, Lord Thranduil.”

While Bard was listening to this exchange, his eyes wandered around the Hall which was loud with boisterous chatter

He found it unsettling to be around such a crowd again, after almost six weeks in isolation; all this activity would take getting used to, again.  They were his people, and they were as dedicated to Dale as he was, he thought as he looked down and the scroll in his lap.  It was indeed a wonderful birthday surprise. 

All the December negotiations made in Erebor were well and good, but if the people he was to lead did not share the same level of commitment, those treaties would have counted for almost nothing. 

Bard didn’t want to be a dictator like the Master – he wanted to _lead_ them, not force them, and this parchment was proof that he had earned their trust, which was a remarkable accomplishment.  These former Laketown residents did not, as a rule, see trust as a gift, so much as something to be earned. 

He turned the scroll over in his hands, as he smiled.  “I think this will be my biggest accomplishment as a King.” He said to everyone.  “Nothing we could possibly do, will ever be as important as this.”  

 He met Hilda’s eyes, who gave him a proud, approving smile. “I think we should put that somewhere safe for now, and when the Castle is all finished, we should make a display for it, as with the other relics from the Battle.”

“A museum, of sorts,” Thranduil agreed.  “Future generations need to see and appreciate the work and sacrifice we made here.”

“Great idea.”  Bard nodded. 

Bard looked around at everyone in the Great Hall again, as another wave of gratitude came over him.  He had always been proud to be counted amongst these good folk, and the interdependence that had been nurtured out of necessity, under the cruel tyranny of the Master of Laketown, will be continued in their new home, where their hopes and dreams could finally flourish. 

Dale had started, and it was not only going to work well, but he had just been given proof positive that his Kingdom, and the North would be renowned in Middle Earth for its unique blend of culture, its trade, and its strength. 

Today, on his birthday, Bard _truly felt_ like a King, down deep in his bones.

Last November, the day after the Battle of the Five Armies, Bard sat in Thranduil’s tent and learned that he was a King.  That same day, he began to visualize the kind of place he’d wanted Dale to be, which was much more than buildings, and houses.  The true Dale was the _heart_ _of its people_ , united in hope, where their hard work would secure a good future for themselves, their families and all future generations. 

In that tent on November 24th last year, Bard had begun to dream of this very thing, and when Ben handed him this list of signatures, all he had hoped for on that day came to fruition here and now.  Bard felt a wave of gratitude and happiness sweep over him, and he was overcome.  He wasn’t crying, but he felt the sting of tears in his eyes.

“ _Meleth nîn_?”  Thranduil leaned toward him with concern in his eyes.  “Are you well?  Do you need to lie down?”

Bard shook his head.  “No,” he managed to say. “I just…” he waved his hand at the happy crowd.  “It’s just… more than I ever expected. And I…”  He blinked.  “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Thranduil put his arm around Bard’s shoulders, and as expected, handed him a kerchief.  “You really should start carrying these in your pockets.”

“No,” Bard grinned. “If I did, it would mean you wouldn’t be with me, and I’d never want that.”

The Elvenking tilted his head with a small smile.  “I can only say it is _perfect_ day when all of our children are with us, but this has been an excellent day for celebrations.”

Bard swallowed, as his eyes filled again.  “Aye,” he managed to say. 

He looked over at Dáin, who clearly understood Bard’s happiness.  The King Under the Mountain had goals for his people, too, and though he never expected to be the ruler of all Dwarves on Middle Earth, he, too, felt the same about the Northern Kingdoms. 

Dáin stood up, held up his glass of wine, as Dwalin called for silence.  “I want te propose a toast, if ye’ll indulge me.”

Everyone in the Great Hall stood, with their own drinks in hand, waiting to hear what Dáin had to say.

“I think King Bard an’ King Thranduil will agree tha’ the North will only remain strong if ye folks will help make it so.  Today, ye’ve shown us that yer more than willin’, so I speak for my fellow rulers when I say ‘Thank Ye’.  I’m no’ gonna toast the Northern Kingdoms, though.  I propose that we salute the _people_ who’ve made it thus.  Today, as always, I will lift my glass an’ say, _‘To the Free Peoples of the North!’”_

As one, every Man, Elf, and Dwarf lifted their drinks and responded, _“TO THE FREE PEOPLES OF THE NORTH!”_

Once the food was eaten (along with cakes for dessert), and it was evident that the King of Dale was exhausted, and the King of the Woodland Realm wasn’t looking much better.

“Go on wi’ ye, then,” Dáin waved them off.  “Dinna fash; we’ll look after thin’s ‘ere.”

Tauriel, Hilda, and Ermon (with Thangon’s help) escorted the two Kings from their table, after thanking them all again.  The crowd in the Hall, laughed, waved them off, and told them to “go already, so the ‘real party’ could start.”

“Ohhhhhh…”  Bard groaned, as he crawled in bed.  “This feels so good…  I had such a great day, but I’m so tired…”

Thranduil hummed as he took his place on Bard’s right.  “Anytime I can get in bed with you, feels good.”  He yawned.  “I am very sleepy.”

Bard grabbed his hips and pushed him so that Thranduil lay on his right side, with his knees up.

“Yes…  Finally, I get to sleep in my favorite position...” He snuggled up behind his Elf and wrapped his arm and leg around him, protectively.  “I’ve missed doing this.” He murmured into his husband’s silky hair.  “Hmmm… another wonderful birthday present.”

“I love you, Bard.”  The Elvenking whispered, as he pulled Bard’s arm around him tighter, and intertwined their fingers. “Always.” 

 _“Gi Melin, Thranduil.”_  Bard responded. _“Uireb.”_

He hardly finished the thought, before he fell fast asleep, and the Elvenking wasn’t far behind.  They slept all afternoon, and only woke to eat their supper, before falling asleep again.

The day hadn’t been perfect, but still, it was a very special one.

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Amarth faeg!_ – Evil fate!

 _dínen-luith –_ silencing spell

 _Ai ma!  Si tolo, Bard!_   - Oh, yes!  Come now, Bard!

 _Mae garnen,_ _Thangon,_ _Mellon_ _nîn -_   Well done, Thangon my friend

 _Edhilren Eryn Aranarth!  Men annagwaedh Fôr Ernaid!   Gwestamen Thranduil iôn Oropher, Aran Eryn Aranarth !  Egleriam Aran Bard!  Elgleriam Aran Dáin!”_ \- Elves of the Woodland Realm!  We pledge our fealty to the North Kingdoms! We pledge our fealthy to Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm!  We honor King Bard!  We honor King Dáin!”

 

KHUZDUL SALUTE: (If this is wrong, please forgive me – there really is no good English/Dwarvish Dictionary like there is for Sindarin, so I had to cut and paste a lot. Even worse, I’ve been trying to conjugate verbs in Khuzdul, which no one should really do, without adult supervision…)

 _Khard rōk Urdêkul! Né belgond varak Uzbad Dáin Ifthu-zirin, Grimstnzborith! -_ Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain!   We pledge our loyalty to Dáin Ironfoot, Ruler of all Dwarves!

 _Hurmel, Uzbad Bard_ _rōk Neidar!_ – We give our highest honor to King Bard of Dale!

 _Hurmel, Uzbad Thranduil rōk Vruden!_ – We give our highest honor to King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm!

 _Shamukh, Uzbad Dáin!_ \- Hail King Dáin!

 _Shamukh, Uzbad Bard! –_ Hail, King Bard!

Shamukh, Uzbad Thranduil! – Hail, King Thranduil!

 


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf pays the Kings a visit and brings them some news that will change a lot of things in Middle Earth—and beyond...
> 
> As their time in the Woodland Realm draws to a close, the citizens of Dale celebrate with a Feast, to say goodbye to their new friends, then....
> 
> AT LAST! FINALLY! The big day arrives the children of Dale (and their Mams) begin the long trip home!
> 
> Unfortunately there are some Orcs who would love to stop them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Only two more chapters after this, and the curtain will fall upon this part of the "Two Thrones" series, but please don't be sad -- the saga of the people of the Northern Kingdoms continues in the next installment called: "An Invincible Summer."***
> 
> I hope you'll stick with me, and I hope you enjoy it!

 

**The Woodland Realm, 18 th of May 2942 T.A.**

“Uncle Percy?”

“What is it, my Little Bean?”  The Steward of Dale lifted Tilda into his lap.  “What’s on your mind?”

They were all gathered in Thranduil’s chambers for the evening, enjoying their visit with Uncle Percy.  The boys were sitting on the floor around the low table fletching arrows under Daeron’s tutelage, while Sigrid was working on her current project – she was making a quilt of leftover Elven silk for her bed. 

“Da's birthday is today, and we didn’t get to see him!” Tilda was worried.  “Is he _really_ all right?”

“He really misses you, too.”  Percy told her.  “You’re Da will be all right, I promise.  He’ll need to still rest some, but he’s anxious to see you kids, and  _Ada_  is jumping out of his skin, he's that tired of waiting.”

“I’ll bet they’re grumpy.”  Bain observed.  “I know I would be, if I had to spend a month and a half in bed.”

Percy threw his head back and laughed.  “you have _no idea!_ Both your fathers have been a handful, but we got back at them!  You wanna hear about it?”

“Yeah!” Bain looked up from his feathers with a grin. “What did you do?” 

He gave them a blow-by-blow description of their “comeuppance” from Hilda, then chortled,  “Your Auntie Hil scared the bejeepers out of them, and they’ve been good ever since!”

 “She didn’t!”  Sigrid laughed. 

Bain shook his head.  “I feel sorry for them.”

“Me too,” Tilda said. “Was Auntie Hil really scary?  Cause she gets scary when she’s mad.”

“Oh, she wasn’t really mad.  She just let them _think_ she was, because they didn’t want to behave and do what the Healer said.  They were so anxious to be up to help get Dale ready for you all, they were driving the Healers and me out of our minds!”

“But they wouldn’t get better if they didn’t listen to Ermon.”  Sigrid said, knowingly.  “Elénaril said her husband was really worried about them.  I’m glad Auntie Hil yelled at them, if that’s the only thing to keep them staying put.”

“That’s what they needed, all right.”  Percy agreed.  “Your Auntie Hil will be back tomorrow, then I’m leaving the next day with supplies.  It’s all coming together kids!  Before you know it, we’ll all be under the same roof again!”

“Yay!” Rhys exclaimed, and Esta got up from her place on the hearth to kiss the boy’s cheek.  “See?  Esta’s excited to meet Lord Bard’s dog, and Lady Tauriel’s cat!”

“Oh, I think Farien’s too busy to meet anybody these days,” Percy gave them all a knowing grin.

“Why?” Tilda asked. 

“Because, Beanie,” Percy booped her nose.  “Tauriel’s cat is busy with her kittens!”

“REALLY?” the little girl yelped, “how many?”

“She had six, and they were born about three weeks ago.  Farien’s looking after them in Tauriel’s room, and from what I understand, the little mother is pretty protective, so don’t be rushing in there; you’ll see them soon enough.”

The little girl clapped her hands in delight. “Kittens!  I can’t wait!”  Tilda glanced over at Galion, who was fingering the material of Sigrid’s blanket.  “Uncle Galion? You’re coming too, right?”

The Elf grinned.  “I am absolutely coming.  I will be riding in the wagon with you, as well as Rhian and baby Darryn.”

“Oh, good,” the little girl sighed with relief.  “I would miss you too much.”

“We would all miss you,” Sigrid assured him.  “You’re just as important as Auntie Hil and Uncle Percy.” She sighed, and made a sour face.  “We’ve all been apart long enough.”

“I agree,” Galion told her, with a pat on her hand.

Indeed, everyone’s long visit in the Palace was coming to a close.  The classes at school were due to finish three days before their departure, so the children would have time to help their mothers pack, or play outside and enjoy the fresh air.  

Not all the children would be leaving, of course, much to the relief of the Palace Elves, who had grown very attached to their guests.   The adopted orphans who were staying had settled into their new homes beautifully, and there was enough that no one would suffer from lack of playmates.  In the Fall, classes for those remaining would resume and Lady Hilda and Mistress Bronwyn would be traveling back to the Palace on a regular basis to check on their welfare.

Among the Elves who were getting ready for the move, was Glélindë, the girls and Gruffudd.  Their furniture had already been sent ahead to Feren to set up their house, so Rhian invited her and the girls to stay in Indis’ former room, while Gruffudd bunked with one of his friends.

Amongst the citizens of Dale, there was great excitement and anticipation. This winter had been a wonderful experience, which they all would look back on with great fondness. The Elves had helped most of them learn to read and write, taught them completely new trades, and did everything they could to help them prepare for a new life, even empowering the women to defend themselves.

The Elves would be very sorry to see them go.  Taking in the refugees had been the most excitement many of them had had for centuries, and most of them had never had the chance to understand  the race of Men on such a deep level, and they had learned a great deal about these good folk, as well as themselves.  In turn, the people of Dale held a deep respect for the Firstborn, and this understanding would serve to continue the culture of tolerance and acceptance that was practiced in Laketown.  The latter had been borne out of necessity to simply survive, but now this tradition would be carried on from a place of love.

Lifelong friendships had been forged here, and would continue to remain strong through letters and visits, and many, many books will be written about this remarkable Long Winter.   

*******************

**City of Dale, 20 th of May, 2942 T.A.**

Two days after Bard’s birthday celebration, they had an unexpected, but very welcome visitor.

“My Lords,” Turamarth knocked on their bedroom door.

“You can come in, Lieutenant,” Bard called, as he finished tying his hair back. “We’re ready for breakfast.”  Thranduil was fastening the last buttons of his robe, and getting ready to pull on his boots.

“Mithrandir is here to see you both.”  The Guard told them.  “He is waiting in your study, Lord Bard.”

Bard and his husband gave each other meaningful looks, then gave Turamarth instructions.  “See to it that our meal is brought there, and bring enough for the Wizard.  Then see to it we are not disturbed.”

The Guard saluted them and left.

“Well, this will be interesting,” Bard went over to wrap his arms around Thranduil’s waist and kissed him.  “I’m anxious to find out about my ‘dream’ when I was out of it.”

Thranduil return his kiss, as he finished brushing his own hair. “I am as well.”

“Should we send for Dáin, do you think?”

“Let us see what Mithrandir wants, first.” Thranduil suggested.  “Wait a moment, please.”  Thranduil went to his wardrobe and pulled out the wooden box with Legolas’s book.  “I want to make sure he takes this with him.  It is finally finished.”

“Good thinking.”  Bard nodded and smoothed down his tunic, grabbed his cane, and together with his Elf, went into the study.

“Hello!  You both look wonderful, all things considered.  How’s the leg, Bard?”

“Very weak, but otherwise perfect; I just need to work the muscles to get them strong again.  We’ve been working with it, and I’ll be using the cane for a bit, but believe me; I’ll take that over losing it altogether, which I very nearly did.”

Gandalf smiled and clapped his hands together.  “Excellent!”  He turned to Thranduil, “And how are you, my good friend?”

“Growing stronger every day, Mithrandir.” The tall Elf smiled down at the Wizard, “and I am ever grateful for your help.  Tell me: how is Bilbo?  Is he still staying with Beorn?”

“He is. I offered to take him to Lothlórien with me, but he declined, as Beorn had just finished carving a small Stratagem set so they could play.  Bilbo is determined to beat the Skinchanger least once, before he goes back to the Shire!” Gandalf chuckled. “The two of them make an odd sight, when they walk through Beorn’s Garden, but they are now fast friends.  To be honest, I think Bilbo is worried that he is too lonely living by himself.”

“That is kind of the Halfling.” Thranduil commented.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of their food, so all talk ceased, while their meals were passed around, and the pot of strong tea was poured out.  After the door was closed, Bard gave the Wizard a thoughtful look.

“I should tell you right off, Gandalf: I remember what happened.”

Of course, the Wizard wasn’t surprised.  “I take it you do, too?” he asked Thranduil, who nodded.

“That’s excellent news, as well.”

“Why is that?” Bard asked him warily.  “Is there something we’re supposed to do with that?”

“Not really.  Just cherish the memories, and think of them, whenever you doubt yourselves, or your purpose in this life here.” He smiled at them.

Bard sat back, and took a sip of his tea.  “I joke with Thranduil about our lives being tumultuous, and so far it’s been true: we’ve been separated, Tilda got so ill, and we both nearly died.  I hope it won’t always be that way.”

“I can tell you that while no life is free from incident, I think the worst is over for a long while.  Make no mistake: War _is_ coming, but not for many years, so I advise you to use this time to enjoy what peace you may.  I must say, Dale looks wonderful, Bard!  You’ll have it looking better than the days of old, if this is any indication!”

“Thank you,” Bard told him. “The best part is so many worked together on it.  Dale is to be the center of the North, so we’ve all got a vested interest in it.  I hope to have the same culture of acceptance that the Laketown folk have.  From what I understand, the good relations between the Elves and Dwarves here is unprecedented, thanks to your help with Dáin.  Speaking of the Dwarf, do we need to send for him?”

“No, that won’t be necessary, I am going there myself, after this.  The caravan from the Blue Mountains arrived yesterday, and I want to speak with Dis.”

“Dis?” Bard tried to place the name.  “That’s Thorin’s sister, right?”

Gandalf nodded gravely.  “She is ruler of the Blue Mountains now, but will spend the summer here, close to her brother and sons.”

Thranduil nodded, “Tauriel wrote me several months ago about the Lady’s visit.  My daughter is a bit nervous about meeting her, in light of her feelings toward Kili.”

“Tauriel has little to fear, but I advise her to wait until she is summoned.  Dis will visit the tombs, of course, and pay tribute; she may need some time after to collect herself, and it will give the Dwarves a chance to tell her more about Tauriel’s actions to save the Dwarves and her son.”

“I will advise her as such.  I have faith that Dáin will persuade the Lady that Tauriel is truly a friend of Erebor.”

Gandalf shook his head thoughtfully.  “While I deeply grieve the loss of Thorin and his nephews, I am glad it was Dáin who became King Under the Mountain.  Perhaps it meant to be so; I think Thorin would have wrestled with the Sickness throughout his life, however much he overcame it before the Battle.”

“You could be right.” Bard agreed.  “The only comfort is that they all are in a place where such struggles no longer exist.  Do you think Dís will suffer from Gold Sickness?”

“I doubt it.  It seems to affect the males of that line, but Dáin has written me of his observations, which I am more and more inclined to agree with, as I think on it.”

“Which is what?”

“It wasn’t so much the gold, as it was the Arkenstone itself.”

The two Kings looked at each other.  Bard was surprised, but Thranduil was not.

“I was alarmed when Bilbo brought the stone to us; when I put my hand near to touch it, I fell at strange ‘pull’ toward it.  This is why I asked Bard to carry it.  I could not be sure, but I did not want to take a chance.”

“What are you talking about?” Bard was taken aback.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was not sure. Then we became too busy with other things, and it slipped my mind.”  The Elvenking shrugged. “At any rate, the Stone is deep in the bottomless pit of the Tombs, so thankfully it is not a danger to anyone.”

“True.” Bard nodded.  “Good to know.”

Getting back to the subject at hand, Thranduil told the Wizard, “Mírelen told me that Kili loves Tauriel still, and will watch over her always.”

“Really?  Have you told her this?”  Mithrandir’s eyebrows raised, but he was pleased.

Thranduil nodded.  “I hesitated, at first.  I did not know if it would stir up her grief, but when we spoke, she found a great deal of comfort from it.  I was supposed to tell her, I think.”

“I agree.” Gandalf nodded.  “It will bring her peace, and when the time is right, she will move on with a full and peaceful heart.”  Then he changed the subject, “How are you two getting along with the King Under the Mountain?”

“Unexpectedly well.”  Thranduil nodded his head.  “It would seem ‘Mordor has frozen over,’ as I have begun to regard King Dáin as a friend.”

Gandalf burst out in loud guffaws.  “Frozen over indeed!  The best I’d ever hoped for was that you would tolerate each other well enough, but when you both were flirting with death, the frantic messages I received were not about his fears for the North.  He’s got a soft spot for Bard here, but he has grown to like you.”

“Dáin has not turned out to be the crude buffoon I thought he was, and apparently I am no longer a mere – what did he call me?  A “Faithless Woodland Sprite.’” Thranduil smiled.  “In all seriousness, he has earned my trust, Mithrandir, and that is something I do not say lightly, given our history with Dwarves.”

“Why is that?”

“When Bard and I were incapacitated, that would have been a perfect opportunity to grasp Dale for his own, and he did not.  I have heard from several people that his only concern was for the territory as a whole, and he was especially concerned for Bain’s safety and inheritance.  I think Tauriel had much to do with this, and I hope the Lady Dís understands that.  The Dwarves have learned much about our kind, through her genuine friendship with them.”

“That much is true.  I have heard as much from the Dwarves.  She makes an effective ambassador.”  Gandalf had finished his breakfast and was setting up his pipe.

“Let me make this clear to you and to anyone else who asks: my daughter is _no_ ambassador.  I will not allow that friendship to be exploited for political gain, and both Bard and Dáin agree with me.  Tauriel is no pawn in any game played on the world’s stage, and I am determined to keep it that way.”

The Wizard considered the Elvenking’s words and nodded his head in agreement.  “Allow me to amend my observation, then.  She is a large influence, and you cannot deny that.  Perhaps not among the leaders and politicians, but for ordinary folk in the North, many will see her friendship with the Dwarves as an example, and learn from it.”

“That is my hope as well.” Thranduil nodded.

Bard spoke up.  “I’d like to thank you for answering Dáin’s message , and for all you’ve done.  I’m sure Thranduil feels the same way, but since I… spoke with you…in that ‘place,’ I feel better about a lot of things.  I still had doubts about myself, but now…”

Gandalf smiled,  “I’m happy for you both, but I didn’t come here just to talk about this.  I have news to bring you, and it may answer some questions you have had since last December, Thranduil.”

“Really?” The Elvenking leaned forward anxiously.

“You have asked the Valar for help in understanding the meaning behind Eärendil’s blessing the night of the funeral for your fallen.”**

“I have!  Have you discovered anything?”

“I’m happy to provide you with answers.  The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood have insights well, as Eärendil’s light shone upon Lothlórien just as brightly that night.  There was no ceremony there, but you know Lady Galadriel suffered greatly when she banished the Dark Lord to Mordor.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened.  “Did it help?  Is she out of danger?”

“I am happy to say it did.  Like you, she spent nearly all of her power to banish the Enemy, and she spent a couple of months in a healing sleep.  She is doing much better, now, has regained most of her powers.  In fact, Elrond has been there all winter – he did not return to Rivendell, but instead has been caring for his mother-in-law.”

“That is excellent news!  And you say Elrond understands his father’s actions?”

“That is why I am here.” Gandalf nodded.  “I ask you to recall the night we all met in your tent, and presented your choices, if chose to marry each other.  Bard chose to become Immortal and change his fate to be with you, Thranduil.  He was given that special grace, and he will be permitted to go to Valinor.”

“I remember.”  Bard nodded.  “Thranduil could have also chosen to give his life up, to grow old with me.”

“That was also an exception.  Under normal circumstances, Thranduil could not be with you in the afterlife.  He would go to the Halls of Mandos, or fade to nothingness here, and remain a spirit.  Eru Ilúvatar was always very specific about where Men go in the Afterlife, so the Elves would not be permitted to even join their spouses there, once their life was done.  They would enjoy several decades of happiness, then they would be forever sundered.”

“How sad,” the Bowman said.

“This is why marriages between Elves and Men are rare and discouraged.  The stories all say that whenever an Elf marries one of the race of Men, disaster follows and their lives end in sorrow.  It was part of the curse of such relationships.”

“This is true.” Thranduil nodded his agreement.  A short time ago, I did quite a bit of research on that subject, after one of my Guards became enamoured with a woman from Dale.”

Gandalf looked at the Elvenking thoughtfully.  “Did you find any encouraging answers?”

“Not really.  There were a few: Mithrellas and Imrazór, seemed to be the best example, but since she disappeared, there is no way to know what might have been.  Many speculate that Imrazór forced her to marry him, but I do not believe that to be true.  I sent a message to the Prince of Dol Amroth, asking for his insights, but have yet to receive a response.”

“I doubt Angelimir would be of help,” Gandalf said.  “Most Men subscribe to the theory of cruelty, and I have tried to dissuade them, to no avail.”

“It’s a physical impossibility.”  Thranduil agreed.  “But one cannot really blame Men for not understanding.  For too long Elves have been uninvolved with the world of Men.” He made a wry face.  “Including myself.”

Bard smiled at his husband.  “You are involved now, and that’s all that counts.  But why would it be impossible?”

“An Elf can never marry, unless it is for love, or at least mutual affection.” Gandalf answered. “Otherwise he or she would fade from the grief of their joining.”

“Exactly.” The Elvenking affirmed.  “Prince Angelimir of Dol Amroth is a good and wise man, but he understands little of Elves.  I am convinced that Mithrellas went out into the night simply because she was a Silvan Elf and was killed by Orcs.”

“I agreed.”

Bard was confused.  “But what does being a Silvan Elf have to do with it?”

Thranduil answered his husband.  “Do you remember when I told you that Silvan Elves are so highly connected with the trees and such?  Many Silvans never feel the longing to sail to Valinor, because they love the forests so much, and want to nurture them.  They revere the Vala Yavanna even more than they do Elbereth, Queen of the Stars. 

And Yavanna is…?”

 _“_ She sung the trees into being, as well as all things green.  If you remember, she is married to _Aulë_ , or Mahal, as the Dwarves call him, and he, too is very connected with the earth.”

“So, one could say,” Bard rubbed his chin, “ _Yavanna_ works on things above ground, while _Aulë_ is interested in thing below it.” Bard mused.

“That is a bit simplistic, to be sure, but you are correct.”  Gandalf answered.  “I am convinced, as I am sure Thranduil is, that Mithrellas simply went out to be among the trees, and strengthen her spirit.  She would know the songs the nearby trees sing and a Silvan needs to hear them.”

“Tauriel talks about hearing the trees near Dale.  She has made friends with many of them.”

Thranduil smiled proudly.  “She has indeed.”

“Where do Silvans live then?  All over Middle Earth?”

“Silvans mostly live in my Kingdom, or in Lothlórien, these days. They are not unwelcome in Valinor, as many sail out of grief from losing their loves ones in battle, or marry another race of Elf who has the Sea-longing.”

Gandalf cleared his throat.  “This Elven history is relevant in light of the news I was sent to bring.”

“How so?”

“Since the Dark Lord has been banished to Mordor, your forest has become healthier, and will be so for many years.  Radagast has been almost frantically busy waking up trees that have long slept from sickness.”

“That’s right,” Bard remembered, “you said Radagast put them to sleep, so your people would not be overwhelmed to hear so many suffer.”

“He did, and I am very grateful.” Thranduil smiled widely. “My people will be happy to hear them wake up and sing again.”

Gandalf smiled.  “You will also be pleased to know your people will be able to bear children once more, and soon your Kingdom will be filled with their laughter.”

“This truly is wonderful news!” Thranduil clasped his hands together with joy.

 “There is more, my friend.  Those among your Elves who have lost spouses, but cannot bring themselves to leave their forests, will find their bonds severed, much like yours was, and they can fall in love and marry again.  They will hold affection for their husbands or wives always, but do not have to sacrifice their close bond with the trees, to feel whole again.”

“So…  There will be no danger from grief?  No fading?” Thranduil asked hopefully.

“No.  The Valar unanimously agreed and presented their case to Eru, arguing that to be forever bonded and destined to spend an eternity in pain, was unnecessarily cruel.” Gandalf laughed and winked mischievously at Thranduil.  “You’ll never guess who brought this petition before King Manwë, and demanded these changes.”

“She did?” Thranduil grinned proudly.  “It was Mírelen?”

“It was indeed.  She was very persuasive.”

“I can’t wait to meet this woman!” Bard slapped his knee and laughed. “You must have had your hands full, when she was alive, love.”

Thranduil grinned and shook his head.  “I did.  You will like her very much.  Mithrandir, you must tell me exactly how this will come about - I must be able to every question my people may have.”

Gandalf pulled a sealed envelope out of his pocket.  “It’s written in detail here, but Eärendil’s Blessing doesn’t end with that, thanks also to your former wife!  You should also know that your Elves are now permitted to join those from other races, without eventual heartache, and they will be as bonded with them, as they would be with another Elf.”

“Their _fëas_ will be one; like ours?” Bard asked.

“Not quite; yours was a special reward for slaying a creature of Morgoth, but…”

“But what?”

“Thranduil, Valar have heard your prayers and petitions defending the courage of your people.  They agree that those who guard your lands every day have no less courage than you, or Bard, or Glorfindel, when he killed the Balrog.  They put their lives on the line every day, and that is no small feat.”

“No it’s not,” Bard commented.

But Gandalf clarified, “There will still be special rewards for those willing confront such pure evil.  Those… encounters leave painful scars,” he looked at them meaningfully, “and not only physical ones, as I am sure you both know.”

Bard sighed and took Thranduil’s hand, “We do.  I doubt the nightmares will ever stop completely.”

“And sadly, Bain suffers, too.”  Thranduil agreed, “You say Elves can marry outside their race, but what are the consequences?  There has to be some profound changes that take place.”

There are indeed, my friend, and each couple must be fully aware of them and consider very carefully.”

“And those consequences would be…?” Asked Bard eagerly.

“When an Elf marries one of another race, they will join as Elves and their _fëas_ will also…”

“Oooh! So, they’ll enjoy the ‘Elf Thing,’ too?”  Bard asked, gleefully

 “I still can’t believe you call it that.” Gandalf rolled his eyes.  “But fine; for the sake of clarity, we’ll go with it...  Anyway, the couple will join _fëas_ , and in doing so, each give the some of the gifts of their race to the ‘Other.’”

“How so?”  

“For example, in a marriage between an Elf and a Human woman, the Elf will lose his Immortality, because he will “gift” some of his years her, giving them both a long lifespan, free of illness or disease. In turn, the ‘Other’ will share her ultimate fate with the Elf and will be permitted to be with his loved one in the afterlife, they will never be sundered!”  Gandalf was grinning.

Both Kings pondered this for a few moments.  “If this is all true, it would be…wonderful.” Bard said.  “Could these couple bear children?  And what would happen to them?”

“Yes. Their lives as Half-Elven will long, as their parents, but they would be Mortal, and they will go and join their parents at death.”

“And this is true for Elves who marry all other races?”  Bard asked.

“It does, although for the most part Elves would grow to love those from the race of Men, and will follow.  Those who would join with, say, a Dwarf, will follow his or her spouse to their Halls.

Thranduil took a few minutes to digest all of this.  “So, Tauriel was able to fall in love with Kili, and because of this...  ‘Change?’”

“Indeed.  She was the very first. Their story had a sad ending, which Valar could not prevent, and though she mourns him, she is in no danger of fading from grief, as they never married.  Tauriel will live on and, eventually, love again.”

“So I have been told by Mírelen.  Tauriel will marry and have at least one daughter.”  The Elvenking smiled.  “But I am choosing to keep that foreknowledge a secret, and I ask that you do as well.  Things like this should happen naturally, in their own time.”

“They should,” Gandalf agreed, and stood up to leave, “I have another message to deliver, then I must be on my way to Erebor.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out another letter.  “This is from the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood, and I think you’ll find it interesting.”

Thranduil took it, broke the seal and read it, then handed it to Bard.

After Bard looked it over, he agreed.  “This is a good idea.”

 

***************

**The Woodland Realm, 25 th of May 2942, T.A.**

Before the first caravan full of the single and childless women left for Dale, a lively “Farewell Feast” was held so the Elves could to say goodbye to their guests, many of which had become good friends.

At the head table, Hilda stood up and made a heartfelt speech, thanking the Elves for their hospitality and the excellent care they received.  She also said Dale will always be grateful for the education and training they received due to their generosity.  Well, she _tried_ to say it, but had to stop, because she began to cry, and buried her nose in her handkerchief.

The silence didn’t last long though.  To everyone’s surprise (especially from his sisters), Bain stood up straight and, as Crown Prince, finished her speech and added his own thanks, on behalf of the King.  The young man received a standing ovation (especially from his sisters, also), and many commented on the boy’s regal countenance, and his resemblance to his father.  Hilda just kept her face in her kerchief and cried harder.

But the best surprise for the Royal Family of Dale, Rhian attended the Feast!  While she shied away from the dancing, she looked relaxed as she sat in a corner with Indis and Idril, bouncing Darryn in her lap.  She looked lovely in her green dress which accentuated the color of her eyes, her hair was thick and shiny and full of natural curls, and best of all, her smile was wide and genuine.

 

At long last, it was time to return!  As much the mothers and children were excited to go home, many tears were shed as they bid goodbye to their Elvish friends.  One by one, as each wagon entered the Main Doors  to await their passengers, there were plenty of well-wishes, hugs, and promises to write from each Race.

Finally, _finally_ the caravan with its large Elven escort were on the road.  It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the temperatures were mild, but not hot, so they had left the covers off, but installed higher panels on the sides of each wagon to shield the little ones from any wind, as they slowly made their way.

As with their trip five months ago, the children were not encouraged to be loud, but it was felt that there was enough protection that they could sing softly if it would keep them occupied.  A member of the Elven Army was assigned to sit in each cart to offer protection and keep the the children calm, and if they became too anxious or antsy, be put in a peaceful sleep, to protect them (and their mothers’ patience).

Daeron rode beside the lead wagon, where the Royal family was. Galion and Rhian were with them, but Hilda decided to ride in the third wagon and assisting with the elderly. Hannah was sitting with an expectant mother who was heavily pregnant, but that was just a precaution.  No one expected any excitement as they had when Rhian went into labor with baby Darryn.

Sigrid, and Galion were watching Tilda closely, but the little girl was in excellent spirits and felt good, and Esta was faithfully by her side.  Darryn enjoyed the rocking motion of the carriage, and was soon asleep, while Bain and Rhys played cards.

They had stopped briefly at two of the four “stations” manned by the Dwarves, so the children could use the privy tents, and listen to reports given by the hidden Guardians, and to listen to the trees.  The news was excellent – no hostile activity was observed.  They also delivered some of the “care packages,” sent from the Elven kitchens: meat, cheese and sweetbreads, as a gesture of thanks to the Dwarves for their help.  These were unexpected and with much gratitude, although the Dwarves were very happy to help keep these “wee bairns” free from harm.

 _“Boe ammen mened!”_ Came the call from Commander Feren, who was leading the expedition in King Thranduil’s stead, and soon they were on the road again. 

At the third station, the children smiled and waved eagerly to their protectors.  By this time almost all of the children needed to get out and stretch their cramped legs, as well as visit the privy, so this stop was expected to be longer. The older children, along with the mothers, helped the children go the boys’ and girls’ temporary privy tents to take care of their business, then spend a few minutes running around, while they waited for the others.

Suddenly, Feren raised his hand and yelled, _“SILENCE!  DÍNINO!  SILENCE!”_

The adults of all three races quickly shushed the children, so the Elves could listen carefully.  After a few minutes, Feren called out in Sindarin, _“A large band of Orcs and Wargs - three miles north!”_

The Elves instantly were alerted and sprang into action.  The Elves on foot ran to the privy tents to hurry them along, and to calmly round up the children at play.

Daeron raced his horse over to the Dwarves and told Bofur, in a low voice, “There are Orcs coming at us on Wargs several miles to the North, _Mellon_ _nîn_ , and we need to head them off before they get to the children.  Speak in Khuzdul - do not frighten the children - and order each of your men to line up over there, and be ready to ride behind an Elf on horseback.  When we get there, _kill_ _the_ _Warg’s_ _first_ ; we cannot let even one to get away! Then we’ll release the dogs, and we’ll all finish them off together!”

“Aye!”  And Bofur quickly turned, and ordered his men to be ready.

By now, the mothers were aware of the situation, and began to run with their children to the wagons.  Daeron looked frantically around and was relieved to find all the Royal Children were in safely in the first cart, with Esta was draped across Tilda’s lap, to keep her down.  Galion was also there, and Sigrid was holding baby Darryn.

“Where is Rhian?” He asked Sigrid, as he got down from his horse, “Do you see her?”  His heart threatened to stop altogether from worry.

“I don’t know!” the girl told him.  “I think she was with Seren toward the back of the caravan.”

Daeron took off at a run, dodging around those busy lifting passengers into the carts, and with a sigh of relief, he finally caught sight of her.

Poor Seren had her hands full of two squirmy boys, who loudly protested having to cut their playtime short, and had to be dragged over to the second-to-last cart. Rhian was helping her and holding two-month-old Liliwen in her arms.  By the time he reached her, an Elf had gotten the mother and children were settled, so Daeron grabbed her hand and began to hurry her toward the front of the line. 

“What happened, Daeron?  All they would say was to hurry to the Wagons!”

He stopped and put his hands on her upper arms.  “Rhian, there is a band of Orcs North of here, and we must go and stop them.  As soon as the wagons are loaded, the drivers will get you out of here with all speed.”

“Can’t you stay with us?” Her green eyes widened at him.

“Captain Dior is riding with you,” Daeron assured her, quickly, “He is very capable, so I know you and the others will be kept safe.  You and the children must do everything he instructs -”

“But what if something happens to _you_?”  Tears formed in her eyes.  

“Rhian, listen to me,” he looked at her intensely.  “I need you to be very brave, now.  The children will be frightened, and I need you to help Dior and Galion keep them calm, especially Tilda; her heart is still delicate, and I am _counting_ on you to not let on how serious this is.  Can you do this?  For me?  I will catch up with you when we are finished.”

“Do you promise?” Rhian leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. 

As much as he hated to, he gently removed her arms, but took her face in his hands.  “I will _always_ keep you safe; do you trust me?  I will never, _ever_ let anything happen to you, or to Darryn.”

“And you’ll come back?”

“I promise, _Hind Calin._ You can do this for the children, can you not?  If Tilda gets upset, encourage her to pet Esta, and help Sigrid and the boys.  Distract them, and do not let on how frightened you are.”

“I can’t.” Her beautiful eyes filled with tears. “I can’t, Daeron.  Don’t -“

“Yes, you can, _Meleth Nîn_.” The moment was so raw and urgent and heartfelt, Daeron wasn’t even conscious of using words of love with her.  “You, Rhian, have much courage, and _I know_ you can do this _.”_ He gave her an encouraging smile. “Do you believe me?”

“I’ll do my best,” she swallowed her fear.  “Just be careful and come back to us in one piece.”

Daeron kissed her brow.  “Come now; there is no time to lose!”  He grabbed her hand again and pulled her toward the front carriage, then lifted her up to Dior.  She lingered over the back board and stared at him, as her eyes filled again from uncertainty.

“You can be brave for me, yes?” he asked her, with an encouraging smile.  “Yes?”

Rhian took a deep breath, and despite her tears, gave him a determined nod.

 _“Gi meriathon, Rhian nîn.”_ He whispered, as he touched her cheek and wiped away a tear with his thumb, then tore himself away to mount his horse.  He did a quick ride up and down the convoy, and made sure all the passengers were settled in.  From beside the last cart, Daeron whistled loudly to get Feren’s attention, then waved his arm in circles over his head, then pointed to Dale.  _“Sevif chûr! Drego! Ego! Ego!”_

Feren nodded to the Lieutenant, “ _No dirweg!”_ the Commander called to him, then turned to signal to the drivers to get wagons moving.    _“Tîr Dale athof rôcham!_   _Avof dharo!”_ the Commander shouted, and they were off.

Daeron wasted no time galloping over to the waiting Dwarves, who were lined up, then pulled up behind an Elf in the saddle, one by one.  Daeron brought up the rear, and reached down and grabbed Bofur’s arm, who landed behind him with a thump and groan.

” _Ooof!”_ the Dwarf yelped. “Easy on the family jewels, there!” 

“My apologies, Master Bofur!  Hang on, tight!” Daeron spurred Aegis into a run.

“You just worry about getting’ me there!” Bofur told him, cheerfully. “Haven’t killed an Orc in months!  This’ll be fun!”

Despite himself, Daeron laughed.  In the increasing distance, he heard collective lurch of wagons as they picked up speed and left the area at with the horses running.

He sent up a quick prayer to the Valor for their safety and a silent plea to Commander Feren: _Please! Get her away from here!  Please, please; keep her safe!_

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Boe ammen mened!_ – We must go!

 _Nae, gorgor!_ – Oh, no! (lit. Alas, horrors!)

 _Meno!  Meno!_  - Hurry!  Hurry!

 _Hind Calin_ – “Green-eyes” (Daeron’s personal pet name for Rhian)

 _Gi meriathon, Rhian nîn_ – I will protect you, my Rhian

 _Sevif chûr! Drego! Ego! Ego!_ – We are ready! Flee!  Go!  Go!

 _No dirweg!_ – Be careful!

 _Tîr Dale athof rôcham!_   _Avof Dharo!_ – We will ride straight to Dale!  We will not stop! 

 

NOTES:

**See Chapter 22 of "What Makes a King."

***See Chapter 28 of "And Winter Came..."

****Mithrellas was a Silvan Elf from the early Third Age, who married Imrazór, a Númenórean from Belfalas.  After giving him a son and a daughter, she left in the night and was never seen again.  For more information, see:http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Mithrellas 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...
> 
> AT LAST we know what the "Blessing of Earendil" means! Since Chapter 22 of “ What Makes a King,”Thranduil has wanted to know why this happened, and what it would mean for his people!


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting for the children to arrive, Bard learns a little bit about Ermon, the Chief Healer's life and how he met his wife, Elénaril, and was surprised to find it was "love at first sight."
> 
> The children come back to Dale! The wagons roll into the courtyard before the Great Hall to unload their precious cargo, and enjoy the Welcome Feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Just one more chapter to go!***
> 
> If you arent’t ready to say goodbye to the characters in this universe, look for them in Part III of the “Two Thrones” Series: “My Invicible Summer,” which is coming very soon!
> 
> Hope to see you there!

 

**Noon; City of Dale, 25 th of May 2942 T.A.**

 “I suggest you sit, My Lord,” Ermon poked his head in the door of Bard’s study.  “I do not want that leg worn out before the Prince and Princesses arrive.”

Bard had been anxiously pacing in his study, leaning on his cane more and more.  He tried to be still, but he was too full of excitement and from the noise level coming from the Great Hall, the men and women gathered there shared his anticipation. 

He sat down and gave the Chief Healer a sheepish grin, motioning for Ermon to join him at the table.  “You can’t blame me; you’re anxious to see your wife, too.”

“I am.” Ermon smirked. “Unfortunately, **_I_** did not get a chance to visit the Palace this winter, thanks to a certain accident-prone King.” He raised his eyebrows at Bard.

“Sorry about that.” Bard winced.  “I hope Elénaril won’t hold it against me.”

“I doubt it.  We are very much used to a life of interruptions.  But you are correct in that I have missed her very much.” Ermon’s blue eyes sparkled, and Bard could see the Elf had brushed his black hair until it shone, with several small braids, and wore a particularly nice dress tunic.

 “I’m sorry I never thought to ask after your family before this; especially when you’ve been so helpful with mine.  You never told me Elénaril was your wife; Thranduil only mentioned that in passing while we were recuperating.”

“You must have run out of things to talk about,” Ermon teased, “if you found my personal life interesting.”

“Well, it was either that, or more Sindarin lessons…”  Bard rolled his eyes.  “Seriously, though; I want to know as much as I can about the people around me.  How long have you two been married?” 

“We have been married 916 years.  I am much older than my wife, and was alone for over two-and-a-half thousand years.  I was never was inclined to marry, until Elénaril moved to the Palace to finish her training as a Healer…” He shrugged and smiled.  “She finished with flying colors, then became my wife.”

”And the rest, as they say, is history.”

 “This is the first time we have been apart for so long; she has traveled quite a bit to see the villagers, but that would only be for a week or two.” Ermon smiled.  “I hope you do not mind, but when she arrives, I plan to keep her busy for a day or two.”

“I would insist, even if you hadn’t asked.  There’s nothing going on that the others can’t handle, and you two have earned it.  I respect and admire Elénaril a great deal; she helped save our Tilda, and for that alone, I’ll worship the ground she walks on.”  Bard grinned.  “I also imagine you’re anxious to get back to the Palace.”

“Eventually, but it will not be for quite a while.  We both will stay for several months to get the Healing Halls running properly.  I am looking forward to the task.”

“I know the Elven Healers will to take turns staying in Dale, but please: don’t do it separately.  I know how I’ve suffered away from Thranduil, and I can imagine how hard you’ve had it.”

Bard changed the subject.  “It must have been especially hard when Thranduil was so close to death.”

Ermon swallowed and paused a minute or two before he answered. “It _was_ extremely difficult, I admit.  I attended Queen Lindorië when she was expecting, and helped bring Thranduil into the world…”. He closed his eyes painfully. 

“When I lose a patient, Lord Bard, I try to focus on the fact that I did everything I could to save him or her, then tell myself things were beyond my control.  It is the only way I know to let it go, so I can give the next patient the best care possible.  I teach Healers to ‘never bleed for the patient,’ and this is true, but when you and Thranduil were hovering close to death,” his voice broke, “…I could not let it go, and I did not know what I would do.”

“We didn’t die, thanks to you.”  Bard reached over and put his hand on Ermon’s arm.

“I do not think you know of all the Elven volunteers who sat with you and King Thranduil for many days and nights, My Lord.  If it were not for them, your heart would have stopped, and Thranduil’s _fëa_ would have departed.”

“Really?”  Bard’s eyes went wide.  “I had no idea.”

“Oh, yes, My Lord: there was a hand on your chest, breathing for you and beating for you for two entire days, until you were out of danger. And your heart stopped completely at least four times.  You may also thank your dog, too.” Ermon smiled down at Thangon, who was at Bard’s feet.  “He alerted us to your condition even before we could sense it.”

“Holy stars above...”  Bard murmured. “I want you to give me their names.  When we’re done and settled, I want to personally thank them.  I owe you all my life.”

“I am sure they would appreciate that My Lord, but you should also understand, they wanted to help the man who has made their King happy again.” 

Bard smiled and blushed slightly.  “Believe me, he has made me happy too.  I hope Elénaril brings you as much joy.”

“She does, My Lord.  I was her instructor in the Healing arts.” Ermon looked down in his lap and smiled fondly.  “It was indeed ‘love at first sight,’ as you call it...  I had heard of such a thing from friends and, of course, my patients, but I was older than Thranduil is now, and after so many years, I did not think I was fated to fall in love.”

“Until you saw her?”

The Healer laughed.  “She showed up in the Infirmary with the other students that morning, and when our eyes met, it felt like I an arrow had struck my chest…  I did not speak of my feelings, because I had assumed she was going to return to her village when she was finished, and I did not want to complicate things for either one of us.  A while after she passed her exams, I was walking in the public gardens of the Palace, and was surprised to see her there, as I thought she had already left to go back to her family.  We talked for many hours, that day.”

“Did she tell you why she stayed at the Palace?”

Ermon chuckled.  “She did.  When I asked her when she was leaving for home, she said, ‘That depends upon you, Chief Ermon.”

“That sounds exactly like Elénaril.” Bard shook his head.  “She does like to get right to the point, doesn’t she?”

“Indeed, she does.  She is a very determined Elf, and has a quick mind, but a very compassionate nature, despite her no-nonsense approach to medicine.  She hides behind a mask of efficiency, as all good Healers must do to survive, but few know the hours she spends worrying to the point of tears for her patients in private.  It is well that she married another Healer, for I completely understand that dilemma, and we know how to comfort and encourage one another, like no one else could.” 

“I’m glad you have each other.”

Ermon met his gaze and said, “My wife tells me Princess Sigrid possesses the strength and character to become an excellent Healer, My Lord.  She cannot practice yet, of course, but many times, she has helped to keep an upset patient calm during treatment; especially the children.  You have a great deal to be proud of.”

“I am, thank you.  When you married, did Thranduil preside over your ceremony?”

“We did not want a ceremony at all.  As you have noticed, while not working, my wife and I are a very private couple.  Elénaril and I simply went out into the forest on a warm summer day, spoke the words to each other and to Eru Ilúvatar, and then we joined.” Ermon tilted his head at Bard and asked, “If you do not mind my asking, was it ‘love at first sight’ when you met Lord Thranduil?”

“Not really, but if you remember, I was too busy worrying over my people; many of whom were dead, injured, starving or freezing to death.”  Bard sighed heavily and winced.  “I’d make a terrible Healer, I guess, because I simply can’t hide behind any façade, when I think of that time.  It still twists at me.”

“It probably will for a long time.”

Bard shook himself from his reverie and got back to the subject at hand.  “Now, it was _definitely_ ‘love at first sight’ when I met my Mattie!  I was on my boat going through Laketown, I heard her sing, and I felt like I had been put under some sort of spell.  Then she came out of her uncle’s house and our eyes met… _That_ was a lightning bolt, let me tell you; I nearly fell out of my boat!” Bard smiled fondly.  “We were happy for ten years before she passed, and she gifted me with three beautiful children.  She’ll never be completely gone, because they’re around.”  Bard reminisced.  “I wish you could have known her, but she’s happy now, where she is, and I’m glad for her.

“If I had not the cares and worries pressing on me, when Thranduil first rode into Dale, I would have been knocked on my arse, believe me!”  Bard laughed. “How could anyone not be?  I imagine there were many in your Realm hoping to get his attention…”

The Chief Healer nodded.  “You are correct; there were many who became infatuated with him, over the years.” The Chief Healer agreed.  “But I am glad he was permitted to marry you, _Mellon_ _nîn_.” 

 “I’m glad, too; and we both have our wives to thank for that.”  Bard blushed and shrugged his shoulders.  We’re blessed, although I still wonder why I deserved it.” He smiled at Ermon.  “If you and Elénaril have anything like what we have, you are a very fortunate Elf.  I’m sorry it’s been such a hard separation, especially now that I know what sharing a _fëa_ is like.”

“I would say the difficulties are far outweighed by the rewards.  But I will take your suggestion about limiting my separation with my wife.  I have missed her, and now that Mithrandir has brought such wonderful news about the forest, I want to speak with her about children.”

“That’s wonderful!  Does she want this?”

“I did not want to write to her; this is something we should speak of in person, do you not agree?”

“I do, and I wish you the best of luck, _Mellon_ _nîn_.  You’ve been good to me, and to my people, and if there is anything we can do for you, please don’t hesitate.”

“I am honored by your words.”  The Chief Healer got up from the table and looked Bard over quickly.  “I must go to the Healing Hall, but I suggest you find a way to rest before the children get here, as hard as it might be.”

“I’ll try.  Thank you.”

Bard watched the Chief Healer leave, then made his way to the Great Hall and took a seat at his usual table with his leg up.  Thranduil, who had been out riding with Feren to work off his own excitement, came in a few minutes later.

“How’s the weather out there?” Bard asked his husband, who sat next to him. 

“Warm, but not terribly so.  I have spoken to Percy about setting up some chairs on the dais so we can wait outside and greet them.”

“Sounds good; let’s do it.”

Thranduil took off his riding gloves.  “Have you had lunch?”

“Nope.  Waiting for you.  I tried to get some work done, but I can’t concentrate.” He admitted to the Elf.  “I don’t blame you for going out.”

“ _Fînlossen_ and _Naur_ _môr_ were desperate for some exercise, so Feren and I thought it would be a good way to make the morning pass quickly.  We checked with the sentries at the Western Gate, and they have heard no news of their arrival as of yet.”

“I don’t expect them for at least an hour.  As much as everyone planned to leave early in the morning, so many children are bound to throw them off schedule.”

“I know,” the Elvenking sighed.  “But I am still impatient.  Feren is not much better – he is anxious to see his girls and ‘‘Lindë.”  Thranduil looked around the Hall, and saw several of the women preparing for a feast. “Is the Feast ready?” 

Bard looked to his left at the kitchen.  “Aye.  Since we don’t quite know when they’ll be coming, Cook has prepared platters of cold meat, breads and cheeses, with fruit and sweetbreads and cookies for dessert.”

“I am very hungry now, I am afraid.”

“Go around the kitchen to the pass-through window: there’s a couple of platters set out for anyone who is peckish.  Can you get enough for me, too?”

“Of course, _Meleth n_ _î_ _n_.”

 

Thranduil brought back a small plate of food, a tankard of ale, and a glass of wine, and the Kings chatted and laughed for a while over their snack, as the big doors were propped open to let the fresh air and sunshine in.  Bard looked out and saw the Men and Elves wandering around the Courtyard talking happily.  

Ben came in and headed toward them, grinning from ear to ear, and clapping his hands together. “Tis a grand day indeed, isn’t it, My Lord?”

“Aye, it is, Ben.”  Bard agreed with a smile.  “Is your house already for your daughter and grandson?”

The City Planner grinned as he sat down.  “It’s all ready.  There's room enough on the first floor all three of us, and we'll get the house finished as time goes on. Hilda sent some women over to get sheets and blankets ready and little Darryn’s crib is all set up.”

“I am very happy for you, Master Ben.” Thranduil held up his glass and toasted the man.  “A baby in the house can be noisy, but you will enjoy it very much.”

“And if you or Rhian ever need a babysitter,” Bard grinned, “You can talk to this Elf.  He can’t get enough of your grandson, and my kids tell me the feeling’s mutual.”

“Oh, we’ll be bringing him by to see you, I’m sure,” Ben promised, then he sighed.  “I’m thinking of my Cristyn, these past few days.  She would love this.”

Bard put his hand on Ben’s arm.  “I completely understand.  And you will be thinking of her often, especially when Rhian and Darryn do something special, or reach a milestone.”

Thranduil offered his comfort as well.  “Even though Lord Bard and I are with each other, we still think of our wives when it comes to our children.  That will never change, but please know your Cristyn is watching over all three of you, and is looking forward to seeing you again.”

“That’s kind of you, Lord Thranduil,” Ben said, quietly.  “I –“

Ben couldn’t finish his sentence, because suddenly all the bells of Dale began to peal at once, announcing the arrival of the wagons. 

They were here! 

 

***************

 

“Let’s go!” Quickly, Bard stood up and grabbed his cane, and the three of them went out to the steps in time to hear the cheers go up. 

Thranduil helped Bard over to the chair they had set up and made him sit down. “No, _Meleth_ ; you may not go down the steps.  Please, stay here, and I promise I will send the children over to you the minute I get them off the wagons.” 

“After you’ve greeted them to your satisfaction, of course,” Bard smirked up at him, as he shielded his eyes from the sun.

“Ah, you have guessed my nefarious plan: I want to steal them all for myself.” Thranduil grinned.

“Why am I not surprised?”  

”They made excellent time, do you not think?”

“I do,” Bard took his meaning, “let’s hope they didn’t have any trouble.”

Their musings were forgotten when the first wagons made its way through the streets of Dale and came into the courtyard.  Thranduil couldn’t stand still anymore, and raced to the bottom of the step with Ben and the other fathers and began to wave at the children, who were kneeling against the side and smiling at everyone.  Tilda was looking through the crowd, and didn’t see Bard, but her eyes lit up when she recognized Thranduil who was overjoyed to see them, and grinning from ear-to-ear.

 _“Ada!”_ She screamed.  His little daughter was beaming as she waved frantically.  “ _Ada! Ada!”_

The moment the wagon stopped, and the brakes were set, Thranduil raced to the back and lowered the tailgate and caught his _Tithen Pen,_ as she jumped out and landed in his arms with glee.  Esta was close behind, and barked happily up at them.

“Oh, _h_ _ê_ _nig_ , my little love,” He kissed her hair and held his little girl tight.  “How I have missed you.” 

“I missed you, _Ada_ ,” she said.  “I hated it when you were gone.” Her arms tightened around his neck. “I was scared when you and Da got sick…”

“Shhh, now, _Tithen Pen_ ; I am here, and all is well.”  He pulled his head back and brushed her hair away from her face.  “Do not think about it anymore, because your Da and I are fine and we are glad your are here.” He smiled and rubbed their noses together.

“Hi, Sea Monsters!”  Percy was at Thranduil’s side helping Sigrid down, and wrapped her in his arms. “How’s my girl?”

“Very happy to be home, Uncle Percy.” Sigrid hugged him again and grinned up at him.  “Auntie Hil is in one of the other wagons with some of the elderly, to make sure they were all right.”

“Of course she is.” Percy laughed, and kissed her forehead.  “I’ll go see if she needs some help.”

After greeting Sigrid with a hug and a kiss to her hair, Thranduil reached out his free hand to help Bain down, but a red-haired blur came flying down the steps to do it for him.

“Sigrid!  Bain!  Tilda!”

 _“TAURIEL!”_ Bain shouted as he jumped down and hugged his sister. 

“ _Ai!_ How you have grown, _Gwador!_   Look at you!” She smiled and looked him up and down.  “You will be as tall as me very soon!”  She grabbed him again and hugged him tight.  “I have missed all of you!”

Sigrid squealed with delight as she hurried over to Tauriel with her arms out. “I missed you, big sister!” and soon she was enveloped in Tauriel’s arms, and they were both crying with joy.  “I can’t believe we’re finally here!”

“Sigrid, you have grown, too!” Tauriel laughed.  “How lovely you look!”

“What about me? I’ve missed my big sister, too!”  Tilda leaned from her _Ada’s_ arms to embrace her.  _“Mae g'ovannen, Tauriel!”_

“And ‘Well met’ to you! You said that perfectly!”

“I’ve been practicing!  And I can say, _“Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn!_   That means “A star shines on the hour of our meeting!”

“So, it does, _Gwathel n_ _î_ _n!”_ Tauriel kissed her cheek again. “That means, ‘my sister.’  And you have grown new front teeth!  What a nice new smile you have!!” She laughed and kissed the little girl again on both cheeks.  “It is a joy to see you!”

 “Where’s Da?” Bain asked.

“He is sitting up there, _Ionneg,”_ Thranduil told them, “we do not want him to stand too long.”  He pointed to Bard who stood up from his chair and leaning on his cane and Ermon was standing beside him to stop him from going down the steps.

“DA!  DA!”  All three of them screamed at the top of their lungs.

Tilda wiggled herself down to the ground, and they raced up the steps to him. Thranduil smiled at the sight of his husband, as the force of his children’s greeting knocked him back down in the chair and they were all hugging him at once.  The look on Bard’s face when he held his children was utterly beautiful, filled with love and pride, and not a few tears of joy.  Bard was an immensely sentimental man, who wore his heart on his sleeve, and that was one of the things Thranduil loved so much about him.

Bain was bending down to meet Thangon with a huge grin of astonishment, while the girls stared at down at the dog with wide, curious eyes, as the big dog wagged his tail and woofed at them.  Then his tail wagged even faster, as he and Esta took their measure of each other.

“Tauriel? _Gwinïg nîn?”_

The wagon’s last passenger disembarked and called softly to Thranduil’s eldest daughter, with a voice full of paternal love.

She had been watching the scene up on the dais with a happy smile, with her arm around Thranduil’s waist, but when Tauriel turned to see who called her name, she gasped, and put her hand to her mouth.

 _“Gwannas lû and,_ _Gwinï_ _g_.”  Galion smiled, as he opened his arms.

Tauriel froze for a moment, then her face crumbled as she began to sob in earnest and ran into her beloved Uncle’s arms.  _“Galion muil,”_ she whispered, over and over.  _“Aníran ni cenad chin…  Galion muil…”_

Galion held her to him for many minutes, in tears himself.  “And I have missed you, my curious, wonderful child.”  He kissed her hair and hugged her tighter.  “I am overjoyed to see you again.”

The Elvenking left them to their reunion, and looked around the courtyard and observed happy faces all around him. He saw Ben hugging Rhian and fussing over baby Darryn, who was a grumpy from all the noise and shouting.  The first wagon pulled away to make room for the second set of passengers and the shouts went up again, much to poor Darryn’s consternation. 

And there was Alun hugging Rhys and tousling his blonde hair.  Thranduil made his way over to them and bowed formally.  “Lord Alun, Treasure-Keeper of Dale, I hereby relinquish custody of your son.” He shook Alun’s hand and smiled at the boy. “Welcome home, Rhys.”

“I will gladly take him off your hands, King Thranduil.  Thanks again, for looking after him.”

“My absolute pleasure.” He smiled down at Rhys and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “You must not be a stranger, _adan neth._  I wish you and your father much joy in your new life, but you must come to see us often.”

“Thank you, My Lord.  Anyway, me and Bain will still be friends, so…” he shrugged, then looked up at the Elvenking with serious brown eyes.  “I’m glad you and Lord Bard are well again.”

“I thank you,” he replied.  “Now, if I remember you have a voracious appetite, so tell your father to take you into the Great Hall where a Welcome Feast is waiting.”

“Oh, good!  I’m starved!” the boy exclaimed and steered his father up the steps.

_“Aran Thranduil!”_

Thranduil turned around and saw Feren approaching.  “We had a bit of trouble three-quarters of the way through, My Lord.  Daeron and some others went to head off a pack of Orcs and Wargs.  Please be assured; we kept the children far away from any danger, by running the horses for a great deal of the way.”

“We need to find Dáin,” The Elvenking quickly located Dwarf King, standing with Bard and the children.  Tilda was grinning up at him and showing off the little diamond necklace he had given her when she was sick, then she wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a hug.  Thranduil saw her mouth the words, “Thank You,” and it was amusing to see the tough, rugged Dwarf King fall under the little girl’s spell, as he cleared his throat several times, before he could say, “Yer most welcome, little lassie.”

Thranduil caught his eye and gave him subtle signal towards a quiet spot to speak, so Dáin excused himself and came over.  After Feren gave both Kings a detailed account of what he witnessed, Thranduil decided to send out two units of Elves to try to find them and bring them home. 

“Put fresh horses on this wagon and send it back for any injured.  In fact, send four more wagons with it, and fetch all the Dwarves who guarded the road; I am sure they would much rather ride all that way in a wagon, than on the back of a horse.”

“Yer right abo’ tha’” Dáin agreed. “I thank ye kindly.”

He looked apologetically at his Commander.  “I know you have just arrived, but I want you to lead this rescue, if indeed it is one.  Daeron is with them, but take Ermon’s assistant, just in case another Healer is needed.  I will alert Ermon and Elénaril to be ready to receive them in the Healing Hall, and,” he turned to Dáin, “do you wish to send for Óin, to treat the Dwarves?”

“I’ll send a messenger ri’ off,” Dáin agreed.  “We’ll be ready fer whatever ‘appens; let’s jus’ ‘ope it’s just a few cuts ‘n scrapes.”

“As do I.”

“I’ll see to it right away, My Lord.” Feren nodded, then went back to work.

Thranduil sighed and looked at Dáin. “Say nothing to Bard, for now.  I would like him to have a few minutes to enjoy his children, before I give him the news.”

Dáin touched his finger to the side of his nose.  “Aye.”

Two more wagons were coming into the courtyard as the others were pulling away, so he left them to it, and saw that the chairs on the dais were gone.  Bard must have taken the children in to get something to eat, so he walked up the steps to join them.  Before he reached the table where is family was sitting, he saw Ben and Rhian, along with Alun and Rhys.  The young girl had a nappy over her shoulder, nursing Darryn discreetly, as she and Ben chatted.

“Welcome home, Rhian.” He smiled at her.  “I am told of the excitement on the road here.  Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, thank you.  I’m just worried about Daeron and the others.”

“Did you witness anything?”

“No, My Lord.  We were stopped for a short break, then they hurried us back on the wagons, so the Elves could put the children to sleep.  The horses ran for quite a way to get us away from there.”

“Was Tilda distressed at all?” He asked her worriedly. “She cannot get too excited or upset.”

“She was, but Dior put her to sleep first thing, and Esta kept very close.  Sigrid and the boys stayed awake, but they behaved very well, for Galion and me.”  Her brow furrowed with worry, and she said in a low voice,

Thranduil waited patiently as she switched sides so Darryn could continue to nurse, as Rhian’s brow furrowed with worry. “I’m worried about them all, My Lord!”

He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, as he held the baby’s hand. “Daeron and the rest of my Guardians are the most talented soldiers of my Realm, so you need not worry.  If _anyone_ can take care of himself, he can.”

Ben leaned in and added his agreement to this.  “Remember, love: this is what the lad does for a living.  He knows what he’s doing.”

“You’re right,” she sighed.  “Hannah always says to think positive, so I’ll just believe they’ll all come back safe and sound, until I learn otherwise.” She smiled sadly at Thranduil.

“Rhian, that is exactly how the families of my military cope.  If you still feel ill at ease, speak to Glélindë about it.  She will tell you the same thing.”

“I’ll do that. She and the girls stayed with me right before the trip, and we’ve become friends.  She’s a new parent, just like me!”

Ben kissed his daughter’s temple and got up. “Now, let me get you something to eat, then I’ll take you our house.  Your room is all fixed up with the crib and…”

The Elvenking left them to it, and stood up straight to go to his family, but not before he took a moment or two to take in the sights and sounds of everyone around him and send up a prayer of thanksgiving.

The Great Hall was a happy, noisy place once more.  All the passengers had been unloaded to an enthusiastic welcome. At every table, reunited friends and families were eating together; husbands had arms around their wives, and fathers had children in their laps, as they talked of their new homes and the life they were going to have. 

This new city, this new Dale would be center of the North, and rightly so.  These wonderful people had much to teach Elves and any other race of Free Peoples how to love and depend upon one another, and how to see and judge a person by character and actions, rather than appearance and personal inclinations. They were openly affectionate with one another, especially their children; they were fiercely loyal, and their biggest desire was for justice and a fair chance to build a life for themselves and their families. 

Thranduil looked around at the smiling families and spotted Seren, Llewellyn and their three children, and recalled when the small red-haired baby, Liliwen was born in his Halls.  Her bright hair had grown longer now, and he saw Llewellyn stroking his fingers through it proudly.  At the next table, he spied Gruffudd and Glélindë fussing over little Alis and Dafina, so he went over to speak with them. 

“Hello, children! _”_ He greeted the girls with a smile.  “Did you enjoy your ride?”

Alis smiled shyly and buried her face in her grandfather’s chest.

“Aye!” Dafina said.  “We woded in a wagon and sang songs, and I tookted my nap, so I don’t have to take one when I get home!”

“You did?” He raised his eyebrows. “That is fortunate, because I am sure you are anxious to see your house, are you not?”

“Uh huh!”  Dafina nodded her head, then frowned.  “ _Nana_ says _Ada_ had to go hewp somebody.”

“I am afraid so, child.” Thranduil gave her a compassionate look. “But he will be back soon.”

 “But I wanna see him now!” The little girl skewered him with a dirty look.  “I dident see him in the wagon, ‘acause he was up fwont, and you made him yeave _again_ _!”_ She said frowning. _“_ That’s not berry nice!”

Her bright blue eyes stared to water, and her lips began to tremble, so Thranduil quickly grabbed a cookie from the platter and handed it to her as a peace offering.

“I am sorry about that, Dafina, but your _Ada_ had to go get the Dwarves that helped you on your trip.  It was nice of them to help, was it not?”

“Well, they hewped so _Nana_ could takted me to go potty,” she mused, and took a bite of her cookie.

 “That is very important.” He looked up and winked at ‘Lindë and Gruffudd, who were trying their best not to laugh.  “Because they were so nice to you, we do not want them to walk _all that way_ back, do we?”

The little tot considered this for a minute as she chewed. “Nuh-uh,” she shook her curls.  “Their yegs would get tiwed, and thew feets would hurt a yot!”

“You are smart little girl; we would never want that.”

Dafina seemed to be satisfied with that and leaned against her mother’s chest and concentrated on her cookie. 

Glélindë smiled down at her.  “Thank you, My Lord.  She has been quite put out about her _A-d-a_   l-e-a-v-i-n-g.” 

Thranduil laughed at this.  He well remembered the days he and Mírelen had to spell out words in front of Legolas to avoid upset.  “I can see Hilda’s confidence in you and Feren were well-founded.  The girls are happy, and you are wonderful parents.”

 _“De vilui,_ _Aran n_ _î_ _n_.”

“I wish you well in your new home,” he said to Gruffudd and Glélindë, as he got up, “Goodbye for now, Alis,” he tickled her tummy, and she giggled.  “Thank you for speaking with me, Dafina,” he told the three-year-old.  “I am happy you approve of being nice to the Dwarves.”

“You’re welcome!”   

Thranduil went back to sit with Bard and the children, with a feeling of joy and satisfaction at a job well done by everyone.  The Long Winter (as it would be called in all the history books) was over, Dale was looking much like it used to, and its inhabitants were healthier than most of them had ever been. Never would Thranduil regret giving so much to these folk; it was a worthy investment for everyone in the North.

“Did you save some food for me?” He sat down next to Bard with a grin.

“Help yourself, but you’d better hurry,” Percy said, as he held up the platter with fruit and cheese to him, “the way Bain’s shoveling it in, there won’t be any left for long.” 

“I was hungry, Uncle Percy!” Bain protested.  “You said I’m growing fast.”

“Don’t think I don’t see you sneaking food to Thangon under the table,” Hilda scolded. “My lands!  I never knew a dog could get that big!” she shook her head.

“I like him,” Bain patted the dog’s head.  From the look on the Thangon’s face, the feeling appeared to be mutual.

“Where’s Esta?” Tilda asked, looking around. 

Sigrid bent down to look under the table.  “She’s lying next to Thangon. _She_ _knows better_ than to beg,” she gave her Da a pointed look.

“You can’t be mad at me! I didn’t have anybody else to spoil all winter, and I was lonely.”

“Well, now that we’re back together again,” Hilda said, “No dogs at the table after this; I’m putting foot down.  You can play with them any other time of day, but I’m not budging on that one.”

Bard noticed Thranduil’s beaming face and met his eyes. “What are you smiling at?”

“All of us! We’re together again, and it makes me happy.” He grabbed a roll from the platter in front of him.  “We only had a few weeks as a family before this, and now that we are together again, it is as if no time as passed at all!” he marveled.  “Why should I not smile?”

“I know, love,” Bard leaned into him and smiled.

Thranduil grinned ate a bite of ham.  “Have you been to your rooms yet, children?”

“Not yet,” Tilda said, from Bard’s lap.  “We were hungry, and I wanted to be with Da.”

Thranduil lifted his left arm and put it around Sigrid’s shoulders.  “Are you happy to be home, _Iellig?”_

“Very.” The girl put her head on her _Ada’s_ shoulder.  “Dale looks wonderful!  I hardly recognize it; it’s so clean and bright.  I can’t wait to walk around some tomorrow.”

“It is a remarkable accomplishment, is it not?” 

“It really is.” She smiled up at him.  _“Ada_?’

“Yes, _Iellig?”_

She kissed him on the cheek.  “Thank you for saving Da,” she whispered.  “I’m glad we didn’t lose you, either.”

He squeezed her shoulders and kissed her hair.  “I would do _anything_ for your Da, and for you, as well; I hope you know this.”

“I’ll never forget it; not as long as I live.” She promised, as tears threatened to fill her eyes. “We wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for you.  And now Da is happy and we’re this huge family…”

“Do not cry _;_ this is a time to be happy and to celebrate,” he booped her nose.

From the other side of the Elvenking, Bard interjected.  “It’s also a time for speeches.”  He handed Tilda over to her _Ada_ , grabbed his cane, then went to the center aisle and raised his hands for attention. Once they were quiet, he began: 

 

 

 

> “People of Dale, I know you’re all anxious to get to your homes, but I’d like to say a few words. I promise not to take up too much of your time, but I wish to make one of my first formal declarations as King of the New Dale:
> 
> “From this day forward, I hereby decree as King, that _every_ occasion, be it a Feast, a Festival, or simply holding Court, must _always_ begin with a moment of reverent silence.  We must never forget those who perished in Laketown, and we must always honor the courage of those who gave their lives in the Battle of the Five Armies.  They sacrificed their lives, so that we might be here today.  As Dale moves forward, let us be mindful all who perished so that we could be here, and we could be _free._
> 
> “Good folk of Dale, of Erebor, and the Woodland Realm:  Please, stand with me, as we bow our heads and remember all those who have gone before us, with love and respect!”

Thranduil and Dáin went to stand on either side of Bard amidst the scraping and scuffling of chairs, as Man, Elf and Dwarf stood to pay homage.  Hats were quickly removed out of respect, children were shushed to a whisper, and many stood with hands over their hearts, weeping silent tears.

When the moment had passed, Bard lifted his head, thanked everyone and encouraged them to take their seats again, as he continued:

 

 

 

> “I don’t want to let this occasion pass without taking a moment to thank everyone who has worked so hard to give us this new city.  There still work to be done, but what we’ve accomplished in such a short time was only because of your willingness to all work together.  I want to thank King Dáin and his Dwarves, for their building materials, along with their excellent craftsmanship, but mostly for their friendship.  The King Under the Mountain worked tirelessly to keep the North going, when I was hurt, and all seemed to be in despair.  He was prepared, if the need arose, to preserve the Kingdoms of Dale and the Woodland Realm for our sons, Prince Bain and Prince Legolas.  For that, we will be forever in his debt!”

Bard and Thranduil bowed low, to the King Under the Mountain, as the Great Hall exploded with cheers and applause. When it settled down, Bard continued his speech:

 

 

 

> “Seven months ago, we were little more than refugees – homeless, starving, cold, and many were injured and  sick.  No one knew how or what would happen to us, but praise the Stars and all the Valar, the King of the Woodland Realm arrived in the ruins that day, with wagon after wagon full of food, blankets, tents, clothing and medicine.  King Thranduil saved our lives, and since that day, he has kept our men, women and children, safe, warm and fed.  He has placed Dale under his protection, and with Erebor’s help, and he has provided us with a chance at a life we have all dreamed of, but never thought possible, had we remained under the tyranny of the Master of Laketown!”

At this, the crowd cheered and clapped, as Bard and Dáin gave the Elvenking a formal salute, as is the custom of the Elves. Thranduil graciously smiled and saluted everyone in the Hall.  

 

 

 

> “I am proud and grateful to be your King, and with such worthy subjects as yourselves, Dale will be something extraordinary.  Thank you, good people, for sharing my vision and my hopes for a better future, for Dale, as well as this entire region.  Together, we will set the example for the rest of Middle Earth to follow; a unique and special place to learn from and celebrate our differing cultures, and beliefs.  Dale will be a place that values life above all, and I pray these values will be remain integral part of us, because these will make us a strong, invincible force against oppression, against tyranny, against deliberate cruelty, against _every evil._  Together, we will never know defeat! 
> 
> “TO DALE, AND THE NORTHERN KINGDOMS!”

Everyone stood up and gave all three Kings - and themselves - a standing ovation, which lasted for many minutes.

 

King Bard’s words on that day were recorded and printed in history books that would be distributed all over Middle Earth (rumor has it that Bilbo Baggins of the Shire owned a copy).  Long after Bard had passed the Crown to Prince Bain, who then passed his crown to Prince Brand, long after their victory in the War of the Ring, the schoolchildren of Dale would continue recite this speech at recitals and remembrance services, for hundreds of years.

In the future, after Bard and Thranduil departed Middle Earth forever, a bronze statue would be made and erected in the courtyard of the Castle, and portions of The Speech Of Freedom (as it was called) were cast on a plaque and hung below the figures of Kings Bard, Thranduil, and Dáin, the Founders of the North.

In the Throne Room of Garon the Founder, carefully preserved behind glass, another famous relic of Dale would be kept for all to see: The Scroll of Dale, bearing the signatures of every Man, Elf and Dwarf present in the Courtyard on the the 18th of May, 2942 T.A.  

That date was forever celebrated every year with a feast, for that was the official beginning of the Northern Kingdoms.

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS (Alphabetical Order):

 _Aníran ni cenad chin…”_ – I have missed you. (Lit. “I have desired to see you.”)

 _De vilui,_ _Aran n_ _î_ _n_ – You are kind, My King

 _Galion Muil_ – Dear Galion

 _Gwannas lû and, Gwin_ _i_ _̈g_ – It has been too long, Little Fingers

 


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the concluding chapter of “And Winter Came…”
> 
> Daeron and the rest of the Elves and Dwarves dispatch the Orc pack, but not without some injuries.  The people of Dale have enjoyed their feast and are eager to get to their new homes, and our Royal Family enjoys their first evening together at last.
> 
> Please watch for the next installment of the “Two Thrones” series, called “An Invincible Summer.” 
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you, to EVERYONE who has stuck with me, so far!  I can’t tell you how much your kudos and kind comments mean to me – you’ve no idea how much I look forward to reading them.  I feel like these characters are good friends, and when I sit before a blank page, I am eager to find out what they do, just as much as you do. 
> 
> I have posted the first chapter of "An Invincible Summer" as a bonus and thank-you gift! Enjoy!  
>  

 

 **Late Afternoon, City of Dale, 25 th of May 2942 T.A**.

After the feast was over and the families retired to their new homes, Thranduil left his family to settle in their rooms, and walked outside to the platform at the top of the steps, where he found Dáin looking toward the Western Gate with worry.

“All we can do is wait.”

Dáin nodded. “I’m sure between ma men and yers, they wiped ‘em out.”

“I am also sure.  And yet,” Thranduil sighed, “no matter how many times I must send troops into danger, I anxiously await their return.”

“Aye, tha’s true enough.”  The King Under the Mountain shook his head in consternation.  “It ne’er gets easier, does it?”

“I have done it for nearly three thousand years, and I promise you, it does not.” Thranduil gave his companion a wry smile.  “Still, I hope to always be as anxious as the first time I watched them leave.”

“Why’s tha’?”

“The day I no longer worry for those who protect us,” he answered the Dwarf sincerely, “is the day I no longer deserve to be their King, or any King, for that matter.”

“True words,” Dáin said, quietly.

“And yet, I do not regret it sending them.” Thranduil sighed again.  “The children of the North are our greatest treasure, and I am sure your people are as willing as mine to protect them with their lives, if need be.”

He turned to face the Dwarf King.  “War is coming, Dáin; but while we wait, let us enjoy these years of peace, and share our hopes that this region will soon be filled with the children of Dwarves, Elves and Men.   Nothing will remind us of the importance of our labors better than the sound of their innocent laughter.  There is no better way to resist the Evil that wants to conquer us, than to be united in friendship.”

The King Under the Mountain looked once again toward the Western Gate of Dale.  “May it be so, if Mahal and the Valar grant us this.”

“I do not know if Mithrandir shared news about my people, Dáin. We will have more children now, and our kind have been gifted with permission to form relationships with other Free Peoples, without a severe consequence.”

“He told me. Our people will be blessed as well, I hear.”

“I want you to know for my part,” Thranduil was solemn,  “should any of my Elves become involved with Men or Dwarves, I will support them, provided there is genuine love and respect between them.”

The Dwarf was taken aback.  “Weren’t you against your Tauriel and Kili?”

“I was wrong, about... many things, and I willingly admit it. I have since come to believe that, had Prince Kili lived, my daughter would have been happy with him.” Thranduil said with sadness. “Many terrible things happened that day that we all wish could be changed, and yet, here we are.”

“Here we are.  For wha’ it’s worth, I’m glad I was wrong, too.  Yer Tauriel’s a good lass.”

”Your kindness has eased her grief, and I appreciate it.” Thranduil saluted the King Under the Mountain.  “I thank you for all you have done, _Mellon nîn,_  not just for working so well with the Elves  and Men, but for all you did for my husband and me when we were… indisposed.  The North would have collapsed, had you had not worked so hard to keep it together.”

“’Twould be foolish not te.” The Dwarf shrugged.  “We’re buildin’ somethin’ special here, laddie.  Somethin’ that’ll hold against the Enemy, and if Mahal wishes it, something that’ll be here long after all three o’ us are gone.  I don’ ken about you, but I don’ want te waste time wi’  fightin’ amongst ourselfs.”

“A lesser Dwarf would have seen our illness as an opportunity to conquer the entire region, yet you did not.”  The Elvenking smiled and raised his eyebrows.

Dáin threw back his head and laughed, as he slapped his thigh.  “No’ wha’ in Mordor would **_I_** do wi’ a bunch o’ Men an’ Elfs?  What do I ken about fishin’, or farmin’, or forestry, or any o’ that shit?” He shook his head. “Nay, those Woods’ll go te that blonde lad o’ yers and Dale belongs to young Bain, and I’ll be the first one te cut the ‘ead off anyone who says different.”

“I thank you, My Lord.” Thranduil showed his respect with a deep bow, as is Dwarven custom.

“I’ve go’ a favor te ask ye, too,” the King Under the Mountain looked at Thranduil with all seriousness. “If anythin’ should ‘appen te me, I’m countin’ on ye and Bard te keep Erebor, till my son gets ‘ere.”

“You have my solemn word, Dáin, son of Náin. Besides,” Thranduil smiled and shrugged, “what would **_I_** do with a bunch of Dwarves?  I know little of rocks and mining.”

 Dáin laughed again, and nodded toward the Castle. “Go on wi’ ye.  Go see te yer bairns.”

 

***************

 

**Late morning on the Road to Dale, 25 th of May 2942 T.A.**

The archers in the trees had killed most of the Wargs out from underneath the Orcs by the time Daeron and his companion encountered the Orc pack.  There were more of them than he’d originally thought, but the Elves and Dwarves ahead of him dove into the fray and quickly got to work. 

Bofur jumped off the back of Daeron’s stallion, his weapon at the ready.  “Thanks for the ride, lad!” and away he went.

Daeron leapt onto the ground, with a smack to the stallion’s rump.  _“Auta, Aegis!  Auta!”_ It was more effective fighting Orcs on foot, and he wanted Aegis away from this; he would call for him when he was done.

He dashed ahead with his sword in his right hand, and his long knife in the left.  Almost instantly, he jumped high in the air to avoid the swipe of an Orc sword, only to land and stab his opponent in the neck.  He swung his knife to cut down a black-fletched arrow headed straight for him.  When it was destroyed, he heard a sound behind him and whirled around to behead another creature that had tried to sneak up on him.

It went on like this for several minutes before Daeron had a chance to glanced around him. Bofur was busy fighting off three of them at once, and he was about to head over to help, when his cousin, Turamarth, jumped down from his place in the trees and landed beside him with a grin. 

 _“Suilad, Daeron!”_ he said cheerfully, as he pulled out his sword, ready for action.

Daeron laughed; he couldn’t help it. _“Go-vaethathanc, Gwador?”_

 _“Athon! Teiliamín!”_ Turamarth answered eagerly.

 _“Aphado nin!”_ Daeron yelled, and ran to where Bofur was surrounded, and began to hack his way through the increasing number of the enemy to get to the Dwarf.  Soon the two Elves and Bofur were back to back, facing outward.

“Where ye been, lad?  Playin’ Draughts?”  Bofur said out of the side of his mouth, as he raised his huge pickax and drove the spike deep into the head of the Orc in front of him.

“Sorry I am late.” Daeron joked as he sized up the creature in front of him and sliced off its arm at the shoulder. “I will buy you an ale, to make amends.”

“You will buy us all a drink, cousin.” Turamarth interjected, as he took an Orc’s leg off at the knees, then finished it off.  “This is thirsty work!”

The three of them worked together for quite a while, and when they could finally pause, the bodies of at least forty Orcs lay dead at their feet, along with two Wargs.

Huffing out a long breath, Daeron looked around him to see how all the others were doing; it looked like the skirmish was just about over.  There were some Orcs over there, but they were quickly being disposed of.   He walked quickly around to ask if anyone was hurt, but, thank Yavanna, there were no life-threatening injuries. 

Except for one.

“Daeron! Get over here, now!”  he heard Bofur call behind him.

He turned and saw the Dwarf supporting his cousin, who was grabbing his arm painfully, and his face was turning grey.

 _“Ai! Û!”_ Daeron cried, as he raced back to them with panic rising in his chest.

“He’s going down!” Bofur cried, as Turamarth’s knees buckled, but Daeron had made it in time to grab his other arm.

Daeron whistled loudly and called his horse’s name as he helped Bofur carry his cousin from the area and to a clear space nearby.  As soon as Aegis came into view, Daeron said, “Bofur, grab my saddle bags; quickly!”

The Dwarf jumped up and quickly returned with them.

“Get his armor off that arm!” he ordered, as the Guard opened the flap and began to fish through its contents and bring out the needed items.

“How does it look?” Turamarth asked in a weak voice.

“Not bad,” he lied.

“You were always a terrible liar.” His cousin said.

“I am busy.” Daeron snapped. “Pester Bofur with your idle talk.”

The Dwarf began to ask the injured Elf questions, while Daeron quickly cut the sleeve to reveal a rather deep cut, with black, spidery marks in the surrounding skin. 

“It was poisoned, wasn’t it?” Turamarth asked, with a whisper.

Daeron’s and Bofur’s eyes met, and the Dwarf gave a barely perceptible nod of agreement.

When his cousin’s eyes began to close, Daeron shook his good shoulder.  “Do not close your eyes!  You will stay alert!  Bofur, make sure he keeps talking!”

  Quickly he took his water skin and bathed the wound as best he could, then chewed several _Athelas_ leaves and inserted them into the wound, despite his cousin’s screams of pain.

 “See?  I found a way to keep you awake, yes?” He pressed even more leaves into the wound. 

“Is the lad all right?” Bofur asked.

“He will be, if we can get him to Dale right away.  He will need further care, but I cannot do it here.” Standing up, he said.  “We need to get him on my horse.”

Bofur grabbed his arm and asked quietly.  “Will the lad stand a ride like that in his state?”

Daeron gave him a meaningful look and swallowed.  “Do we have a choice?”

Gildor ordered the rest of the Elves to continue to burn the bodies, then came over to them.  “I do not want you to go alone, Lieutenant; if Master Bofur is willing, he may ride with me, and we will guard you both.”

“I’ll do that,” Bofur issued orders to the rest of the Dwarves to help with the cleanup, and scour the surrounding woods, and clear them.  “Let’s get going!”

Once Daeron was astride Aegis, they handed Turamarth up in front of him, and with both arms around his waist.  Once the others were seated, they made their way back to the road and set their horses to a dead run.  Aegis was doing his best to give them as smooth a ride as possible, but even the minor jostling wasn’t good for the injured Elf.

 _“Stay with me, Gwador!”_ Daeron said in his cousin’s ear, in Sindarin.  _“Stay awake!”_

 _“I am trying, cousin,”_ Turamarth said in a thin voice. 

“Speak to me in Westron!  You are still learning; count the numbers for me!  Do it!”

“One…  two… three…  four… five...”

“That is it!  Keep going!  How high can you go?”  Daeron ordered him. 

“S-six... seven... eight...” Turamarth blew out his breath, then gritted his teeth. “It hurts, Daeron.”

 _“Iston, Mellon_ _nîn, Iston.”_

“S-speak Westron.”

Despite his fear, Daeron smiled.  “Sorry.  ‘I know, my friend.’”

It wasn’t too long before they saw the wagons approaching in the distance, _thank Yavanna, Elbereth and all the Valar!_  When they met on the road, Daeron apprised Commander Feren of the situation.

“Get Turamarth set up in the last wagon and turn it around.  I will take the others to help with the cleanup.” Feren ordered 

It was quickly done. and the other carts continued to ride West, while Daeron and his company hurried in the opposite direction toward Dale.

“How is he?” Bofur asked as he sat on the other side of the patient. 

“I need to pack the wound again, and it will help keep the poison from spreading throughout his body, but the black tissue needs to be cut away.”

“Can’t you do it here?”

Daeron looked at Bofur with a feeling of despair and said quietly.  “I do not have the tools, without...  If it gets too bad…” he closed his eyes. “I will have to stop and remove his arm entirely.”

Bofur was stricken.  “Oh, shit…” he whispered.

“I c-can hear you,” Turamarth said, weakly.  “You _will n-not_ remove m-my arm.”

Bofur smiled down at him.  “Course he won’t, lad.  We’ll get you there, and before ye know it, I’ll be beating the pants off you at Darts, again!”

The Elf gave a tired smile.  “You h-have never beaten me, Bofur; stop t-telling l-lies.”

“You’ll have to prove that; stay with us, lad!”

 

Turamarth tried to respond but all that came out was a cry of agony, as tears appeared in the corners of his eyes.  The Elf began to sweat profusely, and his fever began to spike, despite everything Daeron could do to combat it. He stuffed more leaves into the wound, laid hands on him, and sang in Quenya, and managed to keep him alive, but only just.

Gildor was riding beside the wagon.  “We should not be long now.” He called.  “We are nearing the edge of the forest and out onto the plain.  The road will be smoother, and we will make even more haste.”

Daeron stroked his cousin’s brow and whispered encouragement to him – or perhaps to himself – and tried to keep calm. 

Turamarth had been his best friend since birth, someone who knew him as well as he knew himself. For all his life, they’d been together, playing as children, getting into trouble, getting out of trouble, learning together at school, and training together as soldiers.  They’d spent so much time at each other’s homes, it seemed like they had four parents instead of two.  To look at them, many thought they were twins, they resembled each other so greatly.  They may not be brothers, but worked, lived, laughed and cried together as though they were.

Turamarth was his cousin, his sworn-brother, and Daeron could not fail him.  He just couldn’t.

 

***************

 

At the sound of the bells from the West Gate, Bard’s head looked up from his place at the table and met Thranduil’s eyes.  “Sounds like they’re here.  Where’s Dáin?”

“He is outside, waiting for Óin to arrive.” Thranduil said as he got up and handed Bard his cane.

Bard nodded and got to his feet.  “Sigrid,” he told the girl, “Find Ermon and his wife, and ask them to meet us at the Healing Hall.”

“Right away.  I’ll come too, in case anyone needs help.” She declared.

“That would be good. I don’t know what we’ll find, but all hands are welcome.  You can help with the minor cuts and scrapes.”

”Kids,” Bard addressed Bain and Tilda, “we need to see what’s up over there.  Stay with Tauriel, and see about helping Auntie Hil and Uncle Percy, all right?”

”Can’t I go with you?”  Tilda looked upset.

”No, baby.  We’ll be back soon.  But I think your big sister wants you all to herself for a while, anyway.” He winked at Tauriel.

The Elf put her arm around Tilda, “I do not want to share you!”

“Bard,” Thranduil looked at him with some concern.  “Can you walk that far with your leg?”

“I will if you’ll help me.” Bard’s look was determined.  “I’m going regardless; these people were injured protecting my people, and I will not sit by while others do my job!” 

Thranduil nodded.  “Then let us go, _Meleth nîn_ , and not wait for the others.” He took Bard’s arm and wrapped it around his shoulder to help support him.  “I will get us there.”

The Kings’ Guards also helped support Bard, and they quickly went down the steps and through the Courtyard.  As they came to the street leading to the Healing Hall, there was a shout behind them.

“Excuse me, My Lords!”  Elénaril and Ermon skirted around, then ran past them, but not before yelling back, “You should not be walking so far!”

“Too bad!” Bard yelled back.

Sigrid flew by, then Thranduil and guards pulled Bard over to the side as the wagon hurried past them.

When Bard finally arrived at the Healing House, Turamarth was in a treatment room with Ermon and his wife, along with Daeron, behind a closed door.

Bard looked at his daughter, “What’s going on?”

“He was cut with a poisoned blade, and Daeron did his best to stop it, but, some of it reached his blood stream.

“Sit down here,” Thranduil told Bard.  “I will go see if I can be of assistance.” 

They were only there a few moments, when the doors opened, and several others came in with some minor injuries, so Sigrid helped the Assistant Healer stitch and bandage the worst of them up.  Soon after, Óin and Dori arrived to help the Dwarves, and Bard was left alone in the waiting area with a couple of others who were not badly hurt and had been bandaged in the field but had been ordered to have the wounds checked, to be sure they too, had not been poisoned.

Bard saw Gildor saw come in the door.  “What happened?”

“There was a larger pack than we had anticipated, Lord Bard.  The Guardians alerted us as soon as they saw them, but they must have been joined by more, by the time we met with them.  We left no Orc or Warg alive, and Turamarth was the only one seriously injured.”

“I wish I could say I’m glad there were so few casualties,” Bard shook his head.  “But even just one is too many.  I heard you had some dogs working with you; are they all right?”

“One has a cut in his shoulder, but that was soon mended; thank you for asking after them.”

“Well,” Bard smiled at the Elf, “Since I now own one of them, I’ve been interested.  I imagine they’re frightening to see in action.”

“To our enemies, yes.  Their handlers work with them constantly, My Lord.  I suggest you take the time to learn to fight alongside Thangon.  It might be useful for you.”

“I’ll do that.” Bard told him.

They waited for about an hour, as the injured were treated, and when the newly-bandaged Elves and Dwarves left, Sigrid and Óin came back out. 

“Have you heard anything?”  Sigrid sat down beside him.

“Not yet.  Why don’t you go back and visit with Tauriel?  We shouldn’t be too much longer.”

She put her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder.  “I’m not letting _you_ out of my sight.”

Another half-hour later, and Thranduil and Elénaril came out.

Bard was on his feet instantly. “How is he?”

“He will recover.” Elénaril said.  “We drew the poison from his blood and my husband removed the necrotic tissue and is stitching him up as we speak.”

“Thank the Stars,” Bard breathed.  “How are you both?  Are you tired?”

“Not especially,” she told him. “We all worked together to remove the poison, so it did not overtax any of us.”

Bard looked at his husband with some concern.  “But you’re just recovered yourself!  Are you all right?”

“Do not worry, _Meleth nîn_ ; Ermon made me stop before I became fatigued.  I am glad we sent the wagons back; he would not have survived on horseback.”

“Turamarth will stay here for a couple of days, and after a few weeks at home, he will make a complete recovery.” Elénaril informed Bard.  “Daeron and Ermon will be taking him to a room in a few minutes.”

Just then, the door to the treatment room opened, and they saw Turamarth being carried on a litter, with Daeron and the Chief Healer close behind.  Beyond the treatment rooms, there was a set of double doors, behind which housed the beds for the patients to stay for observation.

“Daeron will sit with him for a while, and make sure he stays asleep.  I will go and clean up the treatment room; please excuse me.” The Healer nodded to the Kings and left.

Sigrid got up.  “I’ll go help.  Why don’t you two get back to the Castle?  You can come visit him tomorrow.”

Bard kissed her cheek.  “Wait for the guards to come get you, love.  You’re not to come home by yourself, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Da.  Bye, _Ada_ ,” she stood on tiptoe and gave him a hug.  “See you later.”

The two Kings left the Healing Hall to their guards who were waiting outside. 

“When we get back, please return to escort Princess Sigrid home.” Bard ordered.  “She’s staying behind, but she shouldn’t be more than a half-hour.”

“Yes, Lord Bard.”

Bard spied Thranduil grinning at him out of the corner of his eye.  “What’s so amusing?”

“You are getting very good at ‘Kinging,’ _Meleth nîn_.”

Bard just laughed as Thranduil helped support him as they walked through the streets to the Castle.  “Does your leg bother you?”

“It aches, but it doesn’t hurt.  Nothing a few weeks of exercise won’t fix.  I’m anxious to get back to training.”

“As am I.  I do not like it when my skills are not sharp.”

When they reached Castle and made it to their corridor, Tilda came out of her room to give them both a hug.

“Hi, Beanie!  Are you all unpacked?”

“Uh huh!  Tauriel helped me,” she rested her chin on Bard’s chest and smiled up at him, with her arms still around his waist.  “And she showed me Farien’s new babies!”

“She did?  What do you think?”

“They’re so cute!”  She gave him a wide-eyed look, set out to utterly charm the pants off both of them.  “Da? Can we –“

“No.” Bard said.  “Absolutely not.”

“Daaaaaa…” She whined.

“No.”

Thranduil was puzzled. “What is it you want, _Tithen Pen_?”

 _“Your_ daughter,” Bard answered, with a pointed look, “wants one of the kittens.”

“Well we could –“

“No,  _Ada_.”

”But Bard -“

“But Da-a!”

“Tilda,” Bard sighed.  “We have two dogs and a cat sharing this corridor. Esta takes care of you, right?”

“Right,” Tilda pouted.

“Don’t you think you’d be hurting her feelings? She’d think you don’t love her anymore!  Besides, those kittens have been spoken for, since before they were born.  Dale needs good mousers to keep vermin out of the food stores and away from the children, right?”

The little girl heaved an overexaggerated sigh.  “I guess so.”

“ ** _If_** _you’re good,_ I’m sure Tauriel will let you pet and play with them, until they have to leave, but,” he held up his finger in her face, “you _may not_ go into her room, unless she is there.  No sneaking in, do you understand?”

“All right.” Tilda reluctantly agreed, then asked hopefully.  “Will Farien have more babies?”

“Only if Tauriel allows it.” Thranduil answered her.  “We have a spell to put on the females, just as we have one for Esta.” He reached down to pick her up.  “When Dale is a bit more settled, we will see about breeding her, because I am sure some will need dogs to work the sheep and guard their homes.”

 _“Really?”_ Tilda yelped, and clapped her hands together. _“Puppies?”_

“Not for quite a while, _Ada_ ,” Bard gave him a severe look.  “And thank you,” he jabbed him sharply with his elbow, “for planting _that_ idea into her head.  She’ll never leave you alone, now.”

“I sincerely hope not,” Thranduil kissed her brow.  “But, your Da is right.  Come, _Tithen Pen_ ; show me how you have set up your room.”

They went in to find Tauriel unloading Sigrid’s trunk and putting her things into drawers.  Esta was curled up on the bottom of Sigrid’s neatly-made bed, and Tilda’s toys were stacked up against her pillow, ready for play.  Tauriel had even placed a vase with fresh flowers on one of the side tables, to welcome her sisters back home.

“I thought Sigrid might be a while,” Tauriel explained, “so Tilda and I wanted to take care of this for her.”

“That is kind of you, _Gwinïg_.” Thranduil rubbed Tauriel’s back.  “I take you are happy to have your brother and sisters back?”

“More than I can tell you, _Ada_.”  She sighed happily, then stroked Tilda’s cheek.  “Are you tired, _Gwathel?_   You have had a busy day.”

The little girl shook her head.  “Nuh uh. I slept for part of the ride here.”

“I’d still feel better if you rested, Beanie,” Bard told her.  “If you don’t feel you can sleep, then sit and read or something, until dinner.”

“Sit on your bed with a book, while I finish unpacking Sigrid’s things, then I will read to you, would you like that?” Tauriel told her, and set her on the bed. 

Once that matter was settled, Bard peeked into Bain’s room, and saw him sitting cross-legged on his bed, with his new canine friend.  Thangon was lying on his back, moaning with delight, as the boy rubbed his belly.

“You two are getting along.”  Bard said, as he sat down and scratched Thangon behind the ears.  “Glad to be home, son?  Are you all unpacked?”

“Yep.  What should I do with my trunk?” Bain pointed to the empty container.  “There’s no real room for it in here.”

“I’ll ask Percy and Hilda,” Bard answered. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do with them, either.”  He got up and tousled Bain’s hair.  “Welcome home, son.”

“Thanks Da.” Bain started to scratch the giant dog’s ears.  “Thangon’s great.”

“He’s goofy, but he’s a good dog.”  Bard smiled fondly.  “Oh, this is some very important advice: Do not, under _any circumstances_ give him beans or _Lembas_ bread, not matter what Uncle Percy tells you, okay?”

“What if somebody else feeds it to him?”

“Oh, that’s easily dealt with.” Bard shrugged.  “Lock the dog in Uncle Percy’s room.”

“Auntie Hil would kill me.”  Bain laughed.  “I don’t feel sleepy, but I don’t really want to go running around, either, so I’m just going to read for a while.”

“Good idea.  See you at supper.”

Then they entered their bedroom, Thranduil took his hand.  “You need to lie down and rest your leg, _Meleth nîn_.” 

Bard sank into bed with a groan.  “Ohhhh….  That feels good.  I hate to admit how sore my muscles are.”

“I can imagine.”  Thranduil sat back against the pillows beside him.  “Bard, we are _all_ _together_ again!” he exclaimed, and he put his arm around him, as Bard laid his head on his husband’s chest. “I am so happy.”

They relaxed for a minute or two, then Bard looked up into his face. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, _Meleth nîn_.  Anything.”

He reached over and intertwined their fingers, “I’m not sorry I had to sit up there, when the kids came.”

Thranduil was curious. “Why do you say this?”

“I saw the joy on your face when the children saw you; and when Tilda screamed your name, and jumped out into your arms…” Bard smiled, as he watched his husband think of that moment.  “It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.  That was when I knew.” Bard’s throat tightened, “I knew _in my bones_ we did it.”

“Did what?”

 “We’re not _trying_ to make a family, anymore, Thranduil.  We _are_ a family, and we always will be.”

The Elf looked deep into his eyes and swallowed hard.  “We are.  We really are.”

“I still wonder what’s so special about me, to deserve someone like you.”

Thranduil shook his head and sighed. “You believe I saved you, Bard, but you saved _me every bit as much_.  You taught me how to love again, and that it is the small things that give our lives true meaning: when you touch my hair, when Tilda smiles at me, when Bain tells me how his sword work is progressing, and when Sigrid sits next to me in the evening and works on a sock for you.  You have shown me how to appreciate such moments with Tauriel, and you have helped me show her how much I care about her, so she will never feel alone again.” 

Thranduil leaned in to press their foreheads together.  “I am the person I want to be now, and it is because of you.  And you have given me the courage to love my memories, and to share them with Legolas.” He swallowed again. “My son will know his mother, thanks to you.”

Thranduil couldn’t speak at this point, as his eyes filled and spilled down his cheeks. 

“Oh, love…” Bard reached out and gathered his Elf in his arms, and held him.   

“When we first brought the children to the Palace,” he whispered, “they didn’t know you well enough to love you yet, but they do now.  You proved to them that their hearts, their wishes, their fears and dreams will always be safe with you.  You _are_ their _Ada_ , in every way but blood, because they know you’d die for them, and you’d die before you’d fail them.” 

As Thranduil buried his face in Bard’s neck, and Bard stroked his hair, as he went on. “We’ve had some hard times, in the six months we’ve been married, love, but it’s only brought us closer.”  Bard couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Especially the last six weeks in bed with you.” He laughed. “Not exactly a romantic getaway, but anytime I can be next to you, I’ll be happy.”

“Even when we were grumpy and impossible?” Thranduil smirked, as he lifted his head and wiped his eyes.

“That was only because we were lying next to each other, too pooped to have sex.”

“This is true.” Thranduil, as always, was grabbing his handkerchief out of his pocket. As he wiped his eyes, he repeated the sentiment that often came to him at moments like these.  “Ever since I came to Dale that day, it seems all I do is cry.”

“Before you came to Dale that day, you _hadn’t_ cried for almost a thousand years.”  Bard grinned and leaned his head on Thranduil’s shoulder.  “You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Thranduil made a face and poked him, but he agreed.  “You are right; learning to feel again is as tumultuous as our lives will probably be, yet I will gladly accept it.  To feel pain, means also to feel joy.”

“I love you so much, my Elf.”

“And I love you, my Bowman.”

 

After a late dinner, which was simple, but filled with smiles and laughter, the children got their baths and bed.  

“Is it really all right if Thangon stays with me?” Bain asked, as Thangon jumped on his bed and stretched out with a groan of delight.

“Sure.  Just remember to push him on his side if he snores too loud; it helps.”

“But won’t he want to go back in your room?”

 “I highly doubt that, _Ionneg_.” Thranduil laughed, “He is still angry with me for kicking him off your Da’s bed, and barely tolerates his cushion on our hearth.  I think you have made a good friend, Bain.”

 “I like that.”  Bain settled under the covers.  “Good night, Da and _Ada_.”

“Have a good sleep, son,” Bard kissed his hair while Thranduil stroked his arm. 

Next was Sigrid and Tilda’s room, where their littlest wanted help with her hair.

“Are you glad to be home?” Bard asked Tilda, as he tied the end of her braid.

She nodded.  “I’ll miss the Palace, but I like being with you.”

“We will go back fairly often.  That is your home, too.” Thranduil helped her into bed, and pulled the covers up to her chin.  “We could leave the lamp on low, _Tithen Pen_ , until you get used to your room, again.  Will that be all right?”

“Uh huh.”  Tilda gathered her stuffed toys as Esta jumped on the bed and settled down beside her legs. 

“Esta wants to make sure you get a good night’s sleep,” Bard looked down at her fondly.  “You’ve got Sigrid in here, too, but if you need us, we’ll be right next door, all right?”

Tilda nodded opened her arms.  “Goodnight, Da.”

“Sleep well, Little Bean.” Bard kissed her forehead.

Thranduil took Bard’s place and took the little girl in her arms. “I love you, _Ada_.”

Thranduil stroked her brow.  “I love you very much, my _Tithen Pen_.  Sleep well.”

Bard went over to Sigrid’s bed. “Are you too grown-up to give your Da and hug and kiss?”

“Never,” she said, and sat up to give him a peck on the cheek.

“Are you sleepy?”

“I don’t mind going to bed early tonight.” She yawned.  “It’s been a loooong day.”

When _Ada_ took his turn to say goodnight, he kissed her forehead, and told her, “I am proud of you for helping the Healers today, _Iellig.”_

“Did you hear anything else about Turamarth?”

“No but I am sure he will be fine.”

“Me, too.”  Sigrid rolled on her side and smiled up at them.  “Talk to you in the morning.”

The lights were bright in Tauriel’s room, and they found her sitting by her fireplace, looking into the basket of kittens, as her grey tabby lay on her side to feed them.

“They’ve gotten bigger.” Bard observed. 

“They have.” Tauriel agreed fondly.  “I allowed Tilda to peek at them, but Farien gets upset if too many people are around.”

“We’ll back off and leave her be, then,” Bard kissed her cheek and teased.  “Night, ‘Granny!’”

Tauriel smirked at him.  “If I am ‘Granny,’ what does that make you, ‘Great-Grand-Da?’”

”Be quiet, you,” Bard scowled.

Thranduil laughed at the easy banter between them, then he stroked her hair as she looked up at him. “You are happy, my _Gwinïg_?”

“Very happy, _Ada_.”  She got to her feet and hugged him tight.  “I love you.”

“As I love you, child.” He rested his chin on her head.  “Where is Galion?”

“In his room, I believe; he wanted a quiet evening.  Hilda and Percy went to bed early, as well.”

“We’ll let them rest, and see them in the morning, then.” Bard told them.  _“Dû vae, Tauriel!”_

She giggled.  “Your Sindarin is getting much better, Bard, but the correct way to say ‘Good night’ is _‘Vae_ _dû.’”_

“Oh, crumbs,” Bard sighed.  “I always get that mixed up.”

“We have spent hours working on your Sindarin,” Thranduil rolled his eyes, “yet Tilda speaks it better than you!”

“Oh, stop.” Bard smacked his chest.  “Come on, we’re upsetting the cat.”

 

 “I’m not used to wearing sleeping clothes...”  Bard pouted, as they settled under their blankets.

Thranduil agreed reluctantly, then leered at him out of the corner of his eye.  “However, should they ‘accidentally’ come off...”

“Hmmm…” Bard regarded his husband thoughtfully.

Thranduil grabbed Bard and began to kiss him, and soon he was on top of him, nestled between Bard’s legs as they began to rub against each other.

 _“Gi melin, Thranduil.  Uireb.”_   Bard breathed, as he ran his hands through his silky hair, as it surrounded him like a golden curtain.  _“Anthon 'ûr nîn anden, Aran nîn…”_ (Bard had recently discovered, to his great delight, that speaking Sindarin in bed, drove his Elf _wild._ )

Thranduil whispered, “And I give you my heart, My King,” and began to kiss him with urgency, as he continued to grind himself against his husband’s increasingly interested cock.

“Oh, Stars, Thran…” Bard grabbed Thranduil’s face and kissed him hard.  “I love you so much…”

They somehow managed to stay together as their clothes were removed and thrown haphazardly on the floor, and they never stopped working each other to hardness, amid deep kisses and low moans.  Thranduil moved his hand farther down and began to massage his entrance, making Bard gasp, as he enjoyed the rush, and his hips thrusted to grind himself down on Thranduil’s fingers.   Bard gasped even louder when felt lips kissing and teasing underneath the head of his cock, before it was enveloped in Thranduil’s hot, wet mouth.

“Oh...” he moaned.  “I need you...”  Bard’s eyes were closed, and his jaw was slack as he arched his back and fisted his hands in the long, blonde hair.  “I need you to fuck me…”

”Patience, _Meleth,_ ” Thranduil teased.  “I am enjoying this.” He returned to his ministrations with renewed enthusiasm.

By this time, Bard was frantic. “Please, love.  I need you inside me.”  

Thranduil pulled off his cock with a grin, and reached for the bottle of oil in the side table. “Who am I to disobey the King of Dale?” he smiled, and he started to pull out the cork, but froze when they heard a timid knock on their door.

 “Da?” Tilda’s wobbly voice was heard.

 _“Shit!”_ Bard whispered.

They scrambled to get out of bed, and in their panic, Bard accidentally kneed his poor husband in the crotch.

 ** _“NAEG!”_** Thranduil cursed louder than he’d meant to, before he flopped down and buried his face in the pillow to muffle his moans.

“ _Ada_?” Tilda began to cry. “Are you mad?”

“It’s all right, Beanie,” Bard called to her, as he yanked on his bottoms and tied them quickly.  “ _Ada’s_ not mad at you; he just… tripped and hurt his foot, darling. I’ll be right there.”  He looked over toward his Elf, whose eyes were scrunched tight as he writhed and whispered filthy words in Sindarin.

 “I’m really sorry love, but you need to get yourself sorted quick, and get some clothes on!” He picked up Thranduil’s clothes and tossed them on the bed.

Bard waited until Thranduil’s eyes were no longer crossed and had his sleep pants on, before he opened the door.  Tilda, miserable and sniffling, looked up and him in her white nightgown and bare feet.  She was clutching all three of her stuffed toys to her chest. Esta, her escort, sat beside her and looked up at Bard expectantly.

“I w-woke up and the lamp was out,” she sniffled, “and it was d-dark, and my bed is different, and my room is different, and… Charlotte got _really scared.”_ she said before she screwed up her face and began to cry again.

Behind him, Thranduil’s voice was heard, “Does Charlotte need to sleep here with us, _Tithen Pen_?” 

Before Bard could open his mouth to talk her out of it, Tilda scooted underneath his arm and was scrambling on the bed and into Thranduil’s arms.  “We were scared, _Ada_ ,” she howled into his shoulder.

“Shhh… Do you remember when you first came to the Palace, and you were upset?” the Elvenking rubbed her back.

“Uh huh,” she nodded her head into his shoulder.

“I told you then: shadows are only scary until you get used to them.” He held her away and smiled at her, “You will not always be frightened, I promise.”

Bard looked down at Esta, who was satisfied her duty was done, so she turned to go back into girls’ room for a decent night’s sleep. 

“Thanks a lot,” he mumbled to the sheep dog.  “Now she’ll be kicking _us_ all night, instead of _you.”_

Esta responded with a smirk before she trotted back to bed.

Bard rolled his eyes, and allowed himself a moment of self-pity.  He’d _really_ been looking forward to a some enthusiastic sex with his husband, but it was no use - once his Elf and his Little Bean got together, they stuck like glue, and there was no separating them.   

He heaved a sigh and accepted his doom.  “Do you need to go to the privy, Tilda?” 

“Can you come with me, Da?”

“ _Ada_ wants to take you, love.” Bard made a face and stuck his tongue out at his husband. He shouldn’t be the only one to suffer, and this was Thranduil’s idea anyway. “Don’t you, _Ada_?”

Thranduil made a surreptitious face back at him before he got out of bed, still wincing a bit.  “Leave your dolls here, so Da can look after them.”  He reached down and picked the little girl up. “Where are your robe and slippers, _hênig_?” He asked as he carried her through the room.

“I forgot.” Tilda was still hiccupping, but she was settling down from her fright.

“Then I will get them while you are in the necessary, and you must remember to put them on.  The floors here get cold at night, and we cannot allow you catch a chill, can we?” He kissed her hair as he carried her out into the corridor. “Now, would you like a story or a song when we get back?”

Bard watched her lay her head on the Elf’s shoulder. “Could I have a song, _Ada_?”

“A song is what you shall have, my little love.”

Through the open doorway, Bard couldn’t help but smile, as he watched this fierce, mighty Warrior-King handle Tilda’s nighttime qualms with an ease that could only come from the deep love and trust between them.  It was a beautiful sight - one of the “moments” Thranduil had spoken of earlier. 

His enhanced hearing (which had also taken a while to get used to, along with his new strength and agility) helped him enjoy their whimsical chatter.   He also heard Thangon, snoring loudly away, in Bain’s room.  The boy had always been a sound sleeper, so maybe he’d get used to that racket faster than Bard had.  He also hoped the big dog would help Bain adjust to life in Dale, and be a loyal and protective friend to the boy.

Soon, Thranduil was back but instead of putting Tilda in the middle, he lay next to Bard and put her on his right, so they still could sleep in their favorite position.  Bard put his arm around him, and snuggled into Thranduil’s back and kissed his shoulder, and buried his face in fragrant, silky hair. 

The King of Dale began to drift off as he listened to his Elf, his beloved husband, softly sing their small daughter to sleep. 

 

~Fin~

 

****End of Book II of the Two Thrones Series****

Now that our family is together again, see how Daeron deals with his love for Rhian, in Book III: “An Invincible Summer”

 

 

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS (In alphabetical order):**

_Aegis_ – the name of Daeron’s horse, (“Protection”)

 _Aegis, auta!  Auta!_ – (Quenya) Flee!  Flee!

 _Ai! Û!_ – No!  It cannot be!

 _Amarth fêg!_ – Cursed fate!

 _Aníranestad?_ – Do you need healing?

Annon 'ûr nîn angina – I give you my heart

 _Aphado nin! –_ Follow me!

 _Athon! Teiliamín!_ – Yes!  Let us play! (lit. ‘I will!  We play!’)

 _Gildor, Natho nin!_ – Gildor!  Help me!

 _Go-vaethathanc, Gwador?_ – Will you join me, my sworn brother?

 _NAEG!_ – OW!

 _Nan aear adh in elin…_ \- By the sea and stars…

 _Puitho nin!_ – Fuck me!

 _Suilad, Daeron!_ – Greetings, Daeron!

 

NOTES:

 

Stratagem is Middle Earths version of Chess – in Sindarin, it’s called _Dagornaw._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who took the time to leave a nice comment: (Katnor, Leemitage, Constantine_You_Owe_Me, NightingalesAndHandGrenades, Greenwoods, Andy_Bee, Gouniversefanuniverse, Hananay, JustAnotherMarvelFanGirl88, AlfredFreedomJones, BB4ever, Emmalou17, Annatrix, iiii, Weathereyehorizon, Leona, Brynhildr, Yoshaiki), I offer my thanks, and big bunch of lovely roses.
> 
> To my fellow writers, who’ve made the time read my work, thank you for the compliment, as I have enjoyed reading yours. To those fellow writers who are so kind as to leave a comment, your compliment is doubly appreciated!  Those who follow the "Golden Rule" have my utmost respect, and it is high praise indeed!
> 
> Write on!
> 
>  


	43. Lovable Menace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil loves Tilda, he really does, but...
> 
> More wonderful illustrations by the very talented CreepyScientist!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honored to present to you some more pics from my friend, [creepyscientest](https://www.tumblr.com/search/creepyscientist) about our beloved Elvenking and his Tithen Pen!
> 
> Enjoy! And be sure to check out all her wonderful Barduil sketches over on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/search/creepyscientist)!

 

 

 


	44. ****Character List for Two Thrones Series***

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a complete list of Characters with short bios for the series. Hope it helps!
> 
> ❤❤❤❤  
> W.

**Adamar**  – Elf. Daeron’s father; Captain of the Gates; responsible for safety of the Palace and surrounding walls. Husband of Idril.

 **Adila**  - the Blacksmith's wife, who was born in Harad, and is helping Indis look after the refugees rescued from a Pleasure House.  Mother of a boy and a girl, ages 9 and 11, respectively.

 **Airen -** Female Elf from Lothlorien, who helped escort Daeron and his unit to spend the year in the Golden Wood.

 **Alis**  – Five years old orphan from Dale; Adopted by Feren and Glélindë.

 **Almarë**  - Infant daughter of Ermon and Elénaril, along with sister, Calapîa, and brother, Nórimo. (Triplets, born 2nd of September T.A. 2943)

 **Alun**  – father of Rhys, son of Ina, nephew of the late Iola. Widower. Used to work the accounts for the Master of Laketown.

 **Amaren Amandiliel** , One of the Galadhrim visiting the North for a year.  Archer.

 **Anna**  – Wife of Daffyd, who runs the Livery.  Friend of Ellyn, widow of Owen.

 **Bain**  – Prince of Dale. 13 years old.  Very interested in weapons and military.

 **Bard**  – King of Dale; archer, former Bargeman. 41 years old. Husband of King Thranduil.  Former husband of the late Mattie of Laketown. Gets sick at the sight of blood.

 **Ben -** See "Old Ben"

 **Beorn**  – Skin Changer; friend of Gandalf and Radagast.  Lives in Southern Mirkwood.

 **Bilbo** – Hobbit.  One of the Original Company. Had feelings for Thorin.

 **Bofur** – Dwarf.  One of the Original Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Friend of Princess Tilda and Tauriel.

 **Bowen**  – Son of Ellyn and the late Owen of Dale.  Eleven years old.  Older brother of Maddox and baby Owena.  Very protective of his family – looks after him since their Da died.

 **Bron**  - Blacksmith.  Husband of Adila and father to their boy and girl.  Killed by bandits in May 2943 T.A., when their children were held hostage with the Prince and Princesses of Dale.

 **Bronwyn**  – Head of Schools in Dale.

 **Calapîa**  - Infant daughter of Ermon and Elénaril, along with sister, Almarë, and brother, Nórimo. (Triplets, born 2nd of September T.A. 2943)

 **Catrina** – Wife of Roderic.  Helps husband run the Long Lake Tavern.

 **Cwën -**  One of the Galadhrim visiting the North as part of an exchange, but stayed to marry Lieutenant Elion.

 **Daeron** – Elf.  Bard’s guard; speaks Westron, trained as a healer in Old Dale; helped deliver Rhian’s baby, Darryn.  In love with Rhian, but she doesn’t know it.

 **Daffyd**  – Runs the Livery in new Dale.  Friend of the late Owen and Ellyn.  Husband of Anna.

 **Dafina**  – Three-year-old orphan from Dale; Adopted by Feren and Glélindë.

 **Dáin** – King Under the Mountain.

 **Darla**  - Woman from Dale, and Hannah’s daughter-in-law.  Married to Jon, Hannah’s son. Mother of two.

 **Darryn**  – Rhian’s baby boy, named after Daeron, who became her friend.

 **Dilna** – Dwarf.  King Dáin’s wife - Queen Under the Mountain.

 **Dwalin** – Dwarf. Trained Kili and Fili.  Becomes a friend to Feren.  Will help train Bain.

 **Egon**  - Son of Tom the Potter, new Constable of Dale

 **Elé** **n** **aril**  – Elven Healer; wife of Ermon, the Chief Healer of the Woodland Realm.  Mother of triplets: daughters Calapîa, Almarë and son Nórimo.

 **Elion**  - Guardian of the Woodland Realm, currently serving in Lothlórien as Daeron's 2nd-in-Command.  Fell in love with Cwën, Warden of Lothlorien and engaged to be married in T.A. 2944 

 **Ellyn**  – Widow of Owen of Dale.  Mother of Bowen, Maddox and Owena.  Was diagnosed with a serious illness.

 **Emëldir**  - Head of Thranduil's Council in the Woodland Realm.

 **Enid**  - Widow of Dale, about 60 years of age.  Mother-in-Law to the Baker in Dale.  Shared a tent with Rhian and Gladys, in the refugee camp after the Battle.

 **Eriol -**  One of the Galadhrim visiting the North for a year.  Warrior.

 **Ermon**  - Chief Healer of the Woodland Realm.  Husband of Elénaril.  Born in Doriath - grew up with Galion and Oropher.  Was present at Thranduil’s birth.  Father of triplets: daughters Calapîa, Almarë and son Nórimo.

 **Esta** \- Black and white sheep dog.  Given to Bard's children as a gift over the Long Winter.  Serves as a nursemaid to whomever needs her most in the family.

 **Ethan**  – Oldest son of Seren and Llewelyn.  Brother to Liam and Liliwen.

 **Evan**  - Newly hired assistant to Alun, Treasurer of Dale. Moved here from the East Bight to seek his fortune. Late twenties, single.

 **Farien**  – Tauriel’s female cat.

 **Feren**  – Elf. Commander of all branches of the Elven military. Husband of Glélindë.  Adoptive father of Alis and Dafina.  Currently living in Dale with wife and children.

 _ **Fînlossen**_ - “Snowy Mane.” Thranduil's favorite white stallion that he gifted to Bard.  

 **Floyd**  – Old Ben’s big orange male cat.

 **Galion**  – Elf. Thranduil’s Chief Aide and Steward.  Father figure to Tauriel, best friend to Hilda and Percy.

 **Gandalf/Mithrandir** – Wizard; helps Bard and Thranduil get together.

 **Gerion Gilfannion** , One of the Galadhrim visiting the North for the year. Warrior and 2nd in Command

 **Garon the Founder** – First King of Dale.  Established his Kingdom in the year 2432 T.A.

 **Garth**  – Rhian’s late husband; died when Smaug attacked Laketown. Was a drunkard and abusive.

 **Girion**  – 15th King of Dale, killed by Smaug in the year 2770 T.A.

 **Gladys**  - widow of Dale, about 59 years old.  Friend of Enid works as a seamstress with Glélindë.  Shared a tent with Rhian and Enid after the Battle.

 **Glélindë**  – Elf. Commander Feren’s wife; adoptive mother of Alis and Dafina. Worked in the Tailor’s Guild of the Woodland Realm.  Currently living in Dale with husband and children.

 **Greta**  - Head Housekeepers at the Castle in Dale.

 **Gruffudd**  – Grandfather of Alis and Dafina.  Missing one leg below the knee from BOTFA.

 **Haldir**  - Marchwarden of Lothorien and Daeron's commanding officer for the year.  Eldest son of Halfar, former Marchwarden, and his wife, Naimi.

 **Hannah**  – Midwife from Dale; delivered Rhian’s baby.  Widow of Martyn, with three grown children.  One son lives in Dale.

 **Harry**  - "The Boss's" right-hand man and the head of Security for his operation.

 **Hilda**  – Percy’s wife. Mother figure to the Bard’s children. Seneschal of Dale.  In charge of the Castle and welfare of Dale’s widows, poor and needy.

 **Idril**  – Elf.  Mother of Daeron; wife of Captain Adamar.  In charge of the kitchens at Thranduil’s Palace.

 **Ina** – mother of Alun, grandmother of Rhys, sister of Iola.  Was horribly abused by father and sister.  Lives in the Woodland Realm under constant care.

 **Indis**  – Elf.  Mother of Turamarth; wife of Captain Ómar.  Aunt to Daeron.  Works in the Palace of the Woodland Realm.  Temporary companion of Rhian, during her recovery.

 **Iola** – sister of Ina, aunt of Alun, great-aunt of Rhys.  Was driven insane by father’s abuse; murdered Ina’s husband; killed herself while being taken to the dungeons.

 **Ivran**  - Elf, and personal guard to Thranduil.

 **Jarod**  (aka "The Boss") - a very powerful and ruthless head of a sex-trafficking ring west of the Misty Mountains.

 **Joe -** "Farmer Joe"  one of the livestock farmers that lives outside the City Walls.  He has sheep, cattle and goats.

 **Legolas**  – Elven Prince of the Woodland Realm. Born T.A. 1942; 999 years old.  Was 11 years old when Mírelen was killed. Currently traveling with the Dúnedain.

 **Léod**  - Lord of the Wold of Rohan, and Third Marshal of the Mark.  His territory borders that of Lothlorien and it's nearby villages and he works together with the Elves to rescue kidnapped children from Harad and destroy their captors.

 **Liam**  – Second son of Seren and Llewelyn.  Brother to Ethan and Liliwen.

 **Liliwen**  – Infant daughter of Seren and Llewelyn.  Sister to older brothers Ethan and Liam. Born in the Woodland Realm during the Long Winter.

 **Lindo Langonion** , One of the Galadhrim visiting the North for a year. Warrior.

 **Llewelyn**  – Husband of Seren.  Works in Construction with Old Ben.  Father of sons Ethan and Liam, and daughter Liliwen.  Thrilled that baby Liliwen as red hair like him.

 **Lynne** – Former maid, now owns and operates a weaving shop with girlfriend, Mona.

 **Mablung**  - Captain of the Elves and Feren's Second-in-Command in Dale.

 **Maddox**  – Son of Ellyn and the late Owen of Dale.  Five years old.  Brother of Bowen and Owena.

 **Mattie** – (Matilda) Bard’s late wife, died at Tilda’s birth. Came from Dorwinian. Former teacher.

 **Meldon**  - Lieutenant in Captain Mablung’s unit, currently assigned to Dale.  Killed in May, 2943 T.A. while guarding the Princesses of Dale.

 **Mírelen**  – Thranduil’s late wife, killed by Orcs. Killed in the T.A. 1953

 **Miriam** \- A young pregnant girl who with an abusive husband.  She and her baby were killed.

 **Mona**  – Former maid, now owns and operates a weaving shop with girlfriend, Lynne.

 ** _Naurmôr_**  – "Black Fire"  Thranduil's black stallion.

 **Neldor**  – Elf. Tauriel’s birth father.  Killed by Orcs when their village was attacked and burnt down.

 **Nórimo -**  Infant son of Ermon and Elénaril, along with sisters, Almarë, and Calapîa. (Triplets, born 2nd of September T.A. 2943)

 **Nualë**  - An Elven Guard.  Female.  Recently assigned to the Castle.  Good friends with Tauriel.

 **Oin**  – Dwarven Healer.  Part of the Original Company.

 **Old Ben** – City Planner of New Dale.  Rescued Rhian when Dragon came to Dale.  Widowed husband of Cristyn. Adopted Rhian and her son, Darryn. 

 **Ó** **mar**  – Elf.  Father of Turamarth & husband of Indis.  Uncle of Daeron.  Captain of a Guardian Unit of the Woodland Realm.

 **Orlin**  - A Healer in Lothlorien, who is very interested in Daeron's experience and is copying his notes.

 **Oropher**  - Brother of Haldir and Rumil, Wardens of Lothlorien.  Middle son of Halfar, former Marchwarden, and his wife, Naimi.

 **Owena**  – Daughter of Ellyn and the late Owen of Dale.  Eight months old.  Sister of Bowen and Maddox.

 **Penlod**  - A Healer from Lothlorien, who was against working with humans, because his family were killed by Men.  Now friends with Daeron.

 **Percy** – Bard’s best friend; husband of Hilda.  Steward of Dale.  Kept everyone’s spirits up during the Long Winter.

 **Powell** \- son of Anna and Daffyd, who run the Livery in Dale.  Nineteen years old.  Helps his parents look after Ellyn's children.

 **Radagast**  – Wizard; helps the forest. Friend of Beorn.

 **Rhian**  – Young widow from Dale; abused by her husband, Garth, while pregnant Daeron saved her and baby Darryn at birth.

 **Rhys**  – son of Alun, grandson of Ina.  Bain’s best friend; stayed with Royal Family in Thranduil’s Palace during the Long Winter.

 **Roderic (Rod)**  – Runs the Long Lake Tavern in Dale.  Stayed in the Woodland Realm over the winter while he recovered from his injuries from the Battle of the Five Armies. Husband of Catrina.

 **Rumil**  - Warden of Lothlorien, who is spending a year in the Woodland Realm/Dale.  Brother to Haldir and Orophin; youngest son of Halfar, former Marchwarden, and his wife, Naimi.

 **Ruvyn**  - Elf.  Guard to Thranduil, and friends with Tilda.

 **Sandastan**  - Turamarth's dun-colored horse.  His name is a type of military shield formation.

 **Sellwen**  - A child Daeron deeply bonded with when he was serving in Dale under King Girion.  When she and her mother were killed, Daeron suffered a breakdown from the loss.

 **Seren**  – Wife of Llewelyn of Dale.  Mother of sons Ethan and Liam, and daughter Liliwen. Gave birth to her youngest in Thranduil’s Palace.

 **Sigrid**  – Princess of Dale; 16 years old.  Daughter of Bard and Mattie.  Stepdaughter of Thranduil. Wants to be a Healer.

 **Solana**  – Tauriel’s mother.  Killed by Orcs when Tauriel was very small.

 **Tauriel**  – Elf. Thranduil’s foster-daughter.  Bard’s stepdaughter.  Born in the year 2324.  617 years old.

 **Thangon**  – “Shield Wall” Bard’s humongous dog, given to him by Thranduil.  Goofy, but will protect the Royal Family with his life.

 **"The Boss"** \- Head of a sex trafficking ring that kidnaps children, mostly from Harad.  Goes by the name of "Jarod" in Dale.

 **Thranduil**  – Elvenking of Mirkwood. 3,847 Years old. Born in born in S.A. year 2537.  Husband of Bard, King of Dale.  Step-father of Sigrid, Bain and Tilda.  Former husband of the late Queen Mírelen.

 **Tilda**  –  Princess of Dale; Daughter of Bard and Mattie.  Stepdaughter of Thranduil. Seven years old.  Suffered severe illness over the Long Winter and is still delicate; must not overexert herself – her heart is still a bit weak.

 **Tim**  - A Cooper (barrel-maker) that moved to Dale last February from parts unknown.  He was secretly spying on the Royal Family in Dale for "The Boss" (who went by the name of "Jarod," in the City.)

 **Ti** **̂** **revan the Archer**  – Goran the Founder’s Great-Grandson, and fourth King of Dale.

 **Tom**  - Owns the Pottery shop in Dale along with his wife.  Father of three sons.  Was recently hired to be Constable of Dale, along with his eldest son, Egon.

 **Trip**  - Part of a syndicate that ran "Pleasure Houses" in the city of Duston, before the Dwarves rescued the children and killed most of them.  Their ears were cut off and were branded criminals.

 **Turamarth** – Elf. Daeron’s cousin and best friend.  Son of Ómar and Indis.  Learned to speak Westron over the Long Winter.  Lieutenant in the elite Guardian Unit of the Woodland Realm.

 **Vórima**  - The strawberry roan horse that Turamarth bought for Bowen to help pull him out of his depression.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to let me know your thoughts and insights!


End file.
